Let it Burn
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: The decision to embark on the journey to find enlightenment and purpose draws him to one startling development and unexpected relationships blossom. All he has known comes falling upon him and he is left destitute in its wake. Fallen from grace, the Malfoy heir treads new territory as he seeks a new horizon. Dramione; AU; Drama, Angst, Romance.
1. Prologue

_.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Prologue_

 _.~._

* * *

~*- _One day, it'll be a decision that you'll come to regret, Malfoy_ -*~

* * *

 _.~._

 _Eyes as dull as ice_

 _Skin as dry as the sun stricken earth_

 _He stares into oblivion_

 _As his heart so wishes to yearn_

 _Whilst the sovereign fire of his love burns_

 _.~._

* * *

A distinctive scent of burnt parchment filled his nostrils. The foul scent wafted unpleasantly through the small room, filling it up with the decay akin to a thousand rotting corpses. It sickened him unto death. Loitering around by the hearth as the first wintery treasury flourished behind the windowsill, Draco Malfoy's mood had turn sour very carefully. The debauchery of joyous victory sounded below him, a party that he worked so hard to avoid and ultimately escape from. He had had enough of the ridiculous celebrations; he wanted something else, something purer. Drawn to the flickering light of the only warm that seemed to heat up his body, he stared into the embers with a mixture of loath and awe. In a small fortune of fate, he was getting what he wanted.

He was _sick_ of it all. All the raids, the nightly terror, the butchery of the innocent. Only a few things kept him from fleeting, one being his family. If it wasn't for the need to be there and protect them, he would have packed his bags and fled a long time ago. How can anyone be attracted to such horror? To look upon the face of a child or older individual and not feel even the slightest ping of guilt? He couldn't understand that attraction because he simply hasn't acquired it. To believe in the rubbish and disgusting views of the hidden world was more than just a sinful act to him. No words would be able to describe just how sick and wrong they world actually was. Even if he could put into context, he didn't think he could bear the thought of whispering a single word of it.

With well practice poise, he placed his arm against the wooden frame of the hearth and leaned in, admiring the flames as it licked his skin and sent his soul aflame. A small, singed piece of parchment sat in the heart of the fire. The corners were badly damaged, but the middle was very much readable. The image played before him repeatedly in a silent, tuneless motion. The girl in the picture twirled around, her voice he images, would have filled his ears with the sweetest notes that he's ever heard. Brilliant eyes, beautiful face, and wild curly hair- the girl was a Goddess, a masterpiece of the highest perfection. Everything about her made him soar to higher reaches, but yet she was still untouchable. As untouchable as she had been the first day he laid eyes upon her.

Yet, there he was throwing another treasured photograph in the wake of the fire.

Just as she began to take form, a voice called from behind his perched state.

"I thought you'd be here," someone drawled in a baritone voice behind him.

It only took a fraction of a second to register who the voice belonged to and in that time he marked him off as someone unimportant.

Theodore Nott was never once for pleasantries. In fact, Draco couldn't find a single reason for him seeking out his attendance. He had been one of the importers of this evening's festivities; he had been of the few whom single-handedly caught the meddling disciple of Dumbledore and their master could not be happier. If such an emotion could be registered upon his pale face or even expressed at all the young wizards did not know. Their master's mastery of emotions was one thing to marvel openly at.

"Do tell me, Malfoy. Why aren't you celebrating with the rest of us?"

A retort along the lines of: _parties aren't my thing_ was on the very edge of his tongue but he withheld from saying it. His fellow Housemate knew of his late night explorations; a weekend did not go by where he didn't find himself strung up with whatever they stolen from Professor Sprout's secret garden, pissed off his arse, and snogging any girl that would throw themselves at him for even a second of his time. He was a notorious playboy. None one of it mattered, though. All those wasted nights, one thing kept him going and that one thing had almost been the end of him.

Theodore would never know truly how deep his obsession was with her. As far as he knew, it was some sick, twisted game that would inevitably lead to a broken heart. What he didn't know, if would have lead not just one but two miseries. A love between the two of them could never be. A forbidden bit of poetry, their story was as tragic as they came.

A sly smirk appeared on his face, however. Moving away from the hearth, the Pureblood poised himself with high grace and posture. His blonde hair had been sleeked back but now it fell over his eyes, obscuring them from the scrutiny of his friend. Draco had been crying. He would cover it up, no matter how rapturously his heart whispered to him. He knew there was no shame in exposing himself to such vulnerability.

"I had to get a bit of fresh air," he told him, a lie he knew.

Theodore didn't seem to have caught on. "I know what you mean." He shook his head, bewildered. "All those Mudbloods throwing themselves at me was a bit more than I can take. One would think they knew the meaning of 'no'."

"What do you mean?"

He watched his friend's eyes glitter with hesitation before he spoke up. "He's… allowing us to partake in more exuberant activities."

"Meaning," he gathered darkly," he's forcing us to _rape_ his prisoners?"

The wizard looked away, ashamed. It was clear that he had partaken in the night's festivities after Draco had escaped. By a string of hair, this only intensified the alarm. If he had stayed, he would have had to be forced to take someone against their will. He didn't think he could do it again after last night and the almost endless round of sex with faceless girls that he did not know. It was hard to even think about something as simple as a blooming flower when the image of a girl whose virginity had been taken by him was still fresh in his mind. Oblivating himself would have been an option, but his master was always quick to ensure that they would remember their victory. They always remembered. Theodore appeared to be a worse state than him, too.

"I don't know much more of this I can take," he croaked. "The raids, the rapes, violence, and murder- what is the point of all of it, really?"

"The Dark Lord never divulges his reasoning," Draco murmured. "Only he is the keeper of knowledge and all that is worth knowing."

"You speak as if you know him well, Malfoy."

"He's lived in my home for the past several weeks," he drawled, unpleasantly. "It would abnormal not to get close to the Dark Lord, almost unnaturally so when the proximity of his being is so close."

Theodore regarded him for a moment as he considered his words. "How has it been? Living under the same roof as him, I mean."

"Adequately horrendous." Draco moved toward a vacant chair and plopped down. A swirl of dust encased him in a shimmering veil of translucent colors. "Living with the filth that he brings it hasn't been pleasant, Nott. Between the flea-ridden vermin and monstrous trolls, I don't know which one is worse."

"Surely, both?"

He shook his head. Even he couldn't decide. "Doesn't matter. They'll be leaving soon. The Dark Lord must rest or risk decomposition. The remaining pieces of his soul are only so resilient. It is only a matter of time before Potter finds another Horcrux."

This seemed to unhinge Theodore. Cautiously, he approached the Malfoy heir with trepidation. Slowly, he took a seat in front of him, lean over and placed his elbows upon his knees.

"There is something I need to speak to you about, Malfoy."

Draco quirked an elegant eyebrow but said nothing.

He hesitated before speaking once again. "They've found them. Potter and…"

The wizard's grey eyes grew into a storm of raging discourse and unbounded anger. "They _what_?"

"The Dark Lord's messengers found Potter and his friends not far from Wiltshire a few hours ago. They're on their way and-"

A shattering echo of something falling to the ground rang throughout the room. Whatever Draco had thrown had cracked into a tiny million piece, all of which was blown away by the unearthly strength of his magic. He was beyond mad. With quick, short pants, he tried to calm himself down and gain coverage of his emotions but the news of the capture of Potter and his friends was all too much to bear. He knew that he would be questioned. To ensure that the people they captured were who their captors say they were. It would be trailing, and knowing that he would be once again in her presence, it was made his heart crack and tears fall unwillingly down the landscape of his cheeks. Draco's resolve had snapped and he fell into an inconsolable despair.

Theodore sat there with his back straight, his eyes knowing. Pity and remorse for his friend frightened the Malfoy heir. He didn't want his pity and he didn't want to be faced with the girl he's loved so long, lead on and pushed away before her departure into the unknown. She had left the safety of his arms because of his own need to protect her. It was his fault that she was in harm's way.

"I-" he choked, almost wishing that his tears would drown him. "I- I can't…"

"It's perfectly acceptable to forget, Malfoy. Even for a time."

He nodded, wiping his tears and motioning to stand. He staggered before catching himself.

In the corner of the room stood a small basin filled with cream colored liquid. Inside, was a bath of his memories. Each one swirled around another, catching his attention. He watched silently as the tears upon his cheeks disappeared and he regained the composure he once had. Wordlessly, he summoned a vial and with his wand, he gathered one last memory that he held of her. An image of her smiling face as he gazed into her brown eyes was the last remaining connection he had to her. Without that, he would have no idea who she was and thus save her, hopefully, from being killed. In his heart, he knew that it was the right thing to do, the only thing he do for her right now until he could reunite with her and regain her trust. One day, he promised.

Theodore stood by his side as he placed the memory in the vial. Draco handed it to him without a single thought. The wizard took it as a sign that he wanted him to get rid of it as the last reminiscence of the memory disappeared from him. He did so by tossing it into the roaring fire and watching as the glass exploded and the memories evaporated like liquid in the hearth. A foul scent circulated through the room and for a moment, Theodore watched Draco.

When he spoke, he knew for sure that what he had been given to do had taken its course.

"What is that god-awful smell?" he hissed, agitated.

Theodore looked back at the heart and quickly found the reasoning behind the foul scent.  
"Parchment," he told him, keeping his own emotions in check. If he knew… if he was lead to believe anything that he knew now… it would go against everything he worked hard to accomplish. "Would you like me to retrieve it?"

Draco watched the embers. Entranced by the odd colored fume of the fire, he slowly captured his friend attention and said," No," he told him softly. "Let it burn."

. ~ -Fin- ~.

* * *

 **A/N:** As you may have noticed, this ended on sort of a cliffhanger. I do plan on continuing it, but I wanted to finish Fated to be Ours first before restarting Salutem. Rest assured, I will come back to this and know I am not looking for a certain amount of reviews for this in order to continue. I expect y'all to be patient no matter what. I am not that type of author, anyway. I simply wanted to write it and I was blessed with a review and support of my stories that allowed me to adopt one of her titles/stories. Thanks, girl! If y'all thought Fated to be Ours was a bit dark, you'll find this touching very sensitive topics. Salutem, as well, has been rated M for that reason. Tread carefully! It will be one and only warning.

 **Note:** Any errors y'all find can be blamed on my desktop. I have both desktop and laptop with two different version of Office. They can never come to a conclusive decision, so.

With that said, how did y'all like it? No, yes, maybe? Let me know :)

Bye!


	2. The Sparrow

_It's been about four months since I published the Prologue for Let it Burn. I have decided that the time has come to finally begin it. This is dedicated to LadiePhoenix007. She has been amazingly supportive, though I haven't heard from her in months. I hope you're alright, girl!_

 _ **Note:** I am not exactly sure how many chapters there will be, but I assure you it will be somewhere between 60-75. Updates will come every Friday and Tuesday, and won't exceed more than 4500-5000 words a chapter. I will let y'all know if something happens on my Tumblr. I hope y'all like the name change; I know I do. _

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. I don't know if books/movies count. But, I do take pride in the stories that I create and write. Respect that, please._

* * *

 **Title:** Let it Burn

 **Author:** Carolare Scarletus

 **Dedicated to:** _LadiePhoenix007, whom has been a huge supporter of all, if not most of my stories. I adopted the title_ _Let's Burn It_ _from her but decided to change it. Hope you don't mind!_

 **Pairing:** Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger and others.

 **Universe:** Alternate Universe.

 **Summary:**

For years he's harbored these feelings and for years it's been a deathly secret of his. When the threat of the rise of the Dark Lord comes to fruition, a young wizard's world turns upside down. Drawn by the upbringing of his childhood, Draco Malfoy struggles profusely to stay away from the dark while at the same time fighting the light. As the years pass, the decision to embark on the journey to find enlightenment and purpose draws him to one startling development and unexpected relationships blossom. All he has known comes falling down upon him and he is left destitute in its wake. Fallen from grace, the Malfoy heir treads new territory as he seeks a new horizon.

An unmoving photograph, a heart stricken with sorrow, and the untouched caress of time.

The heart screams for what the heart truly yearns to have, and that's the affection of woman beyond his reach.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

 _.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter One_

 _The Sparrow._

 _.~._

* * *

~*- **Sometimes, it's better to step back and allow fate to decide the best course of action** -*~

* * *

 _.~._

 _And ruin'd love when_

 _It is built anew,_

 _Grows fairer than at_

 _first, more strong,_

 _far greater_

 _-William Shakespeare._

 _.~._

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a mission. Through the winding terrace of the corridors of Hogwarts, his intuition has lead him deep within the castle, forcing him to stop once again as his mind raced to find what he was trying to recollect. For weeks he's been trying to find a safe haven. The task that was instructed to him was not an easy one, he knew. He just needed a safe place to retreat to during the night and be certain that no one would find during the day. As the admission of smoldering summer heat pressed down upon him, Draco found himself out of options.

He couldn't remember where he had read it, if it had even _existed_ for that matter. It may be the lack of sleep playing with his mind, but he could have sworn he had encountered the Room of Requirement countless times during his more childish escapades as part as the Inquisitorial Squad during his Fifth year. Looking back now, he realized he had been entirely too upset about Saint Potter and his band of misfits running around like they owned the damn place. He only joined them to piss him off. Eventually, it came to pass that their little group had been ratted out by some Ravenclaw, by whom everyone still regarded as the sniveling girl who almost ruined their plans. He did, however, knew the person that he was reluctant to seek help from. The last person on earth who he was practically snarling at the mere thought of her face.

Hermione Granger.

He couldn't believe that he was even considering the know-it-all Mudblood to help him. Despite his past infidelities, he had grown just a bit envious of her vast knowledge. It didn't mean it gave him any reason for him to ask her about the Room of Requirement. He could see how that conversation would go after so many years of deriding her and calling out on her blood status.

For years he has hated her. Loathed her for everything that he was worth, and that was hefty price. Purebloods were infamously known for their prized traits and grandeur; it wouldn't get past him if the little witch had a secret crush on him. He knew he was quite charming, but that didn't change the fact that she was still a filth little Mudblood, no matter how extraordinarily gifted and beautiful she had become. All these years, if there was one thing he could provide her was the simple fact that he found her exceptionally stunning. Blood status or not, Granger had become something to silently gawk at.

A bestial growl tore from his throat. God dammit. Why did his mind have to run away from him? Now, he had two seemingly different problems, both the result of thinking about that fucking bitch.

Grudgingly sighing, he returned back to the task at hand- finding the bloody room so he could at least go back to bed before dawn broke from the horizon. Merlin knew he couldn't afford another sleepless night. Nearly a month into the new term and his grades were already slipping. Snape had reprimanded him twice for the failure to turn in three essays and failing his first Defense Against the Dark Arts test. With Lord Voldemort's presence looming over him, he hardly had the time to study, nor did he care. Receiving an Outstanding on an assignment was the least of his worries now. He had far greater things to worry about, especially with the last message that he received from his Lord.

To say the least, he wasn't all too thrilled about the progress with the Vanishing Cabinet. In fact, as his written words cursed him, the sentimental value of what he must accomplish before time ran out unexpectedly increased. He needed time. Time would provide him with what he needed, along with a place to actively do his research. The library had been of no use, and the bloody matron of the ancient tomes had basically kicked him out the second he came up to her as if he already asked about Dark Artifacts. How the _hell_ was he supposed to fix the damn thing? If Snape wasn't always constantly on his back and his mother badgering about writing her, maybe he would be able to actually sit down and fix it. How the else was he supposed to do it? He wasn't given much leverage when it came to assistance and he was too afraid to ask anyone other than his Godfather, who told him he would do everything within his power to help. Despite that promise, his help was nothing more than words aimed to appease him.

" _Your mother had given me the task to watch over you," he had told him in the drastically dark and deep tone," it is your job to do the work that the Dark Lord has given you."_

What the fuck? Some Godfather and he doesn't give him even a hint of how to fix the fucking thing? Even now, weeks after that conversation with his dear Godfather, he was blessed with the insatiable urge to wring him until there was no air left in his lungs. Useless as he has been, he found the reassurance quite inspirational. At least he didn't have to worry about someone following him. Not that he could afford someone pestering him, anyway.

Draco passed another disgruntled portrait and stampeding stallions. He's passed the same line of paintings twice now, and it was coming to the point where he has memorized each other their intricate strokes and brushes. Women with glowing textures and children with curious eyes afforded him the smallest of glances before drifting back to sleep. Somewhere between finding wonder and trying to redirect his focus back on his task he heard it.

It was a distant sound, coming off from just around the corner. It hadn't been there twenty minutes ago when he first treaded the halls. He stepped carefully around the corner, just making out two distant figures down the corridor.

Voices. Two of them, and they seemed to be arguing about something. Draco was always a night owl, finding it pleasantly alluring, but knowing that someone else was drifting precariously through the corridors made him uneasy. His whole body was tense, and it felt like someone casted _Petrificus Totalus_ on him. Frozen on the spot, he stood and listened.

"-load of rubbage if I ever heard!" a feminine voice. "Do you know how idiotic that sounds?"

Draco's brows furrowed. He knew that voice, knew the owner but he unfortunately couldn't place it. Whatever the poor bloke had done to earn such a shrill treatment was beyond him. He hoped for his sake it was worth being yelled at like that.

"Oh, come off it." the deep voice countered. "You would have done the same thing if you had the heart. He fell asleep in the library, 'Mione. You've done it before and the Prefects before us let you off. Why is this any different?"

"If you were paying attention," she hissed, her anger rising painfully with each word," you would have realized that he hadn't come from the library, Ronald. He was holding one of your brother's Detonation Bombs and was planning to plant it in the girl's lavatory on the third floor."

Weaslebee let out an agitated sigh. "Merlin, Hermione. Why does it always have to be rules with you? Have you ever considered life would be more pleasurable if you let lose every once in a while? I don't know. Let your overbearing attitude and outlook slip in a different direction? It's no wonder you've only got two friends. No one else would be abl-"

Before he had the chance to finish that sentence, something attacked him. Draco didn't know exactly what Granger had sent after him, but it did just the trick. He smirked at the sound of the weasel's terrified squeals. He sounded like a misplaced pig running away from a farmer.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, you pig!"

Oh, so he _was_ correct.

"I don't care what you bloody think! You are just the same and I'm done trying to stop you from harming yourself, or worse, killing yourself. You're on your own from now on!"

"Hermione, I-"

"Don't you speak!"

"Please, just-"

"No." she whispered in a strangled cry. "For once can you do the right thing and just walk away? I care about you Ron, but you continue to disregard my concern. Now that I know how you feel about me… just leave, please."

You've done it now, haven't you?

Weaslebee made a shuffling noise, debating whether or not he should go. Any respectable friend would comfort her, but he wasn't like any friend Granger has ever had. Sure, she was a bloody know-it-all nuisance, but even she didn't deserve to be treated as second best. Weasel had a lot to learn before her trust in him could be renewed.

"Alright, fine." He told her. "If you're going to be like that then I'll go."

The way Granger sobbed made his heart clenched abnormally inside his chest. Why the hell was he feeling like this when it was Weaslebee that should be experiencing the heart-wrenching feeling of breaking the trust and bonds of friendship? Sweet Circe, did the boy even know what the _meaning_ of friendship was? A smile formed on Draco's lips; as much as he liked deriding the youngest Weasley, Granger's tears were becoming a bit too much to handle.

He never knew what to do with a crying girl. Granger was a strong witch, but she was just like every other teenaged girl at Hogwarts. She had her moments. She got hurt like everyone else, felt the disastrous feeling of rejection. Never did he imagine that she would be as weak to allow someone else see her cry.

Of course Draco has heard the stories. The Golden-fucking-trio's escapades was renowned as it was awed. What happened at the Department of Mystery was still a topic of interest among the school; even he pondered what happened in the department time to time. But, that wasn't the point of this exercise. Word had it was that Antonin Dolohov delivered the almost fatal blow, bestowing the witch with something that the students had went wild with. Some have said she lost two of her ribs, while others have speculated that she was at the mercy of her attacker. Whatever the influence, Draco was slightly curious as to what laid underneath her clothing. He wanted to see for himself what that bastard did. He didn't know why, though. _Why_ he cared, why it _mattered_. All he knew was that he had to pay for what he did. Whatever it was that Granger had to deal with. For the rest of her natural life, nobody knew, but she would have to be reminded of it every time she looked in the mirror, or lingered in the recess of her dreams.

With a sudden, abrupt thought he wondered why he was even bothering thinking about the Mudblood.

 _You care for her_ , said a voice.

Like hell he did. She was an annoying know-it-all that has the penchant for driving every bloke she came in contact with to their graves. She has no sense of fashion, no filter whatsoever, but has been blessed with an extraordinary gift in magic and a powerful encouragement for-

Did he just _compliment_ her?

Dear Merlin. It was entirely too late. Finding the Room of Requirement may have to come at a later date. For now, he needed rest. Hopefully by morning he will have forgotten this night and be strong enough to face the day without having to look behind him every five seconds. Just as he was about to leave, Granger's sobs erupted around hm.

All the years that he's known her, he's never heard her cry. She was strong, yet so fragile. Draco bit his lip nervously. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to go talk to her. At least, cheer her up. She didn't even have to speak to him. The proximity itself would be more than enough for him.

One thing was certain, he couldn't fight the feelings he had toward the little know-it-all. No matter how troublesome they were.

It was a split minute decision, and before he had the chance to stop himself from withdrawing his wand from his robes, he casted a charm that would enable her to at least find some resolution in the broken bond of her six-year friendship.

A symbol that someone was there and watching her.

He sent her sparrows.

* * *

Hermione watched as Ron retreated back into the dark. She held onto the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes as long as she could. Once he was gone, she let it all out. Crying, sobbing, her nose running as if she were but a child that had no control over their emotions. She wasn't prone to crying, and usually did so in the company where no one would be present. Razed for the last time by her friend, or should she say ex friend, she was thrown into irretrievably grief.

She hiccupped as she attempted to dry her tears, but it was to no avail. She couldn't believe the words that Ron so blatantly told her. She knew she was a bit cautious at times, too preoccupied by the rules and lived her life with vigilance, but that didn't give him the right to say what he did. For years she has walked in the shadows of her best friends. Now, it seemed, that those days were over.

Although she cared immensely for Harry and Ron, going as far as accompanying them on their little schemes in their younger years, she couldn't understand his reasoning behind lashing out like that. For Merlin's sake, she fought a small allegiance of Death Eaters, helped defeat a giant snake whilst she cheered them on and stood by their sides through thick and thin and he still had the audacity to say that she didn't live every second of her life the way it ought to be lived? To the extreme, no doubt? Hermione was sick of him trying to control every aspect of her life, and wanted nothing more to stick him in his rightful place, which she had done in a meniscal sort of way.

Alas, the time for that had fleeted. Perhaps it would be better just to go and apologize and live the remaining years of her life with friends who secretly didn't care for her. As she thought, the legendary mark upon her torso began to hurt. Dolohov's curse still bothered her even now. Every so often she had to take a potion to alleviate the mounting pain before it became too unbearable. Sometimes, she would forego the potion, finding comfort in the fact that she indeed could feel such emotions as anger and sadness. She didn't know where to place this strange need to remember what he did, but she knew she couldn't go on with the secret. One of these days she would completely stop taking anything that was meant to help appease it and she would inevitably find herself in a position worse than one she was in now.

Sighing, she stood from the ground, discovering just then that she had allowed herself to slide down and rest against the cold, stoned wall. A part of her, the sick part of her that agreed to the statement of placement, told her that the ground was where she belonged, and that is where she was meant to stay.

Standing up straight, Hermione withdrew from the wall, drying her cheeks with the tips of her fingers. It was late, and she really must go to bed.

As she turned, something caught her eye.

It was small, delicate. Nothing like the things she usually witnessed during the day. Strange as it was, she decided to follow the small glowing ball of light. Captured by the simple wonderment of the floating orbs, she immediately set out to find the origin. Never the one to embark on dangerous journeys alone, Hermione found herself enjoying the freedom, the pleasantness of the notion rather enjoyable to say the least. Darkness may be following closely after her, but she was not afraid. Strangely enough, as long as she kept following the light, she knew she would be able to find safety.

Hermione knew instantly where the orbs were taking her. The Room of Requirement, as she remembered, was somewhere on the seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Breathing heavily, she scurried after the portrait, coming to the end of the corridor. There, she saw them.

A whole flock of sparrows awaited her arrival. Each of them were a different variety of hues. All singing to the same tune. As Hermione's eyes gazed upon the birds, her heart hammering away, she realized something extraordinary about them.

They were all entirely made of parchment. As if someone sat down and constructed them out of old books, parchment, newspaper clippings, and everything else they could get their hands on. She was in complete awe of it, and wanted to exactly which spell could have created the lovely little birds. Giggling as one of them plopped itself on her shoulder, her sadness all but a forgotten memory, she found herself learning out it felt to be happy and not miserable with worry. The young witch twirled around, humming wondrously. She never felt so alive, she restless with ease. As the birds gathered around her, chirping their beautiful song, she didn't notice the retreating figure in the background, or the steel grey eyes that landed on her one last time before vanishing.

* * *

 _ **Totem-**_

(Noun); plural noun:

 **totems**

-a natural object or animal believed by a particular society to have spiritual significance and adopted by it as an emblem.

 **-Sparrow Totem:**

Sparrows derive power and protection from their numbers. Always in a clan, they move in clusters, eat in clusters, and are always _ **content**_ as such. This can be quite intimidating to some would-be predators. Safety in numbers is a lesson the Sparrow has to share with us.

The Sparrow is _**ever vigilant**_ in her goals. She is always bustling for her food, foraging for her nests, and gathering for her young. **Fastidious** and _**productive**_ _,_ the Sparrow is a reminder that idle hands (and idle minds) should be avoided in order to live a full, healthy life.

She is a master of flight, and camouflage, and as such the Sparrow teaches us to use our creativity to get around in life - think outside the box, and _**be creative**_ in solving our problems.

As an Bird Totem, the Sparrow speaks of higher thoughts and ideals. She beckons us to **keep our burdens as light** as we can in order to avoid a heavy heart.

(More information about Totems can be found on this website- www. / sparrow-meaning. html)- No spaces, of course.

 **-Musical composition for this chapter** (End of scene two):

www. youtube watch?v = oTi5pZ- G3pg

(No spaces).


	3. Her Sanctuary

**A/N down below.**

As always, enjoy

* * *

 _.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter One_

 _Her Sanctuary_

 _.~._

* * *

~*- The eyes seek what the heart cannot speak

To whom was standing underneath-*~

 **Wednesday September 11** **th** **, 1996**

The rain was coming down harder than usual. A veil of morbid passing had been placed upon the surrounding area, pressing down upon the students and castle as the sun behind the looming clouds and passed over them. They were forced to tread through the weather, a nuisance for those whose classes were far across the vast plane of Hogwarts. But for some it was rather calming.

Hermione Granger hurriedly weaved through the lingering groups of students as she desperately tried to make it to her next class. She had lost Harry and Ron some time ago, but didn't have the time to go back and retrieve them. On top of that, Ron was still being very distant to her, which she could understand. She had treated him so badly. When they were patrolling, she said some things she shouldn't have, and she's regretted it ever since. Hermione had tried to apologize, but of course their conflicting personalities got the best of them, and destroyed any attempt at sealing up whatever rift that has separate them. One day, she planned on fixing that. Right now she just prayed she made it to class on time.

As she finally managed to get past a group of Hufflepuff girls, she caught sight of a familiar, glowering figure.

Standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his menacing eyes combing the corridor, was Draco Malfoy. Standing within inches of him was Theodore Nott, who appeared to be whispering something to his ear. He would nod slightly, tilt his head, or narrow his eyes in acknowledgement, but other than that he was quite unresponsive.

While the rain soaked completely through the clothing of those who had come from Herbology or Care for Magical Creatures, Malfoy was perfectly untouched. Not a single drop had come in contact with his skin, which made Hermione wonder briefly if the boy was made of porcelain. Why, however, she did not know? The rain would contrast so beautifully, and she couldn't help be so drawn to something so tragically stunning.

If it was the eye that want to see, the heart was the one that did not want to feel.

She backed away, and she could have sworn that those cold, grey eyes followed her.

* * *

Brown eyes watched with unadulterated happiness as the smallest bird of the flock joined its siblings. As it caught the air beneath its trembling wings, her heart sped up until it had the courage to fly once again. The flock circled around it in a colorful array of color; they flew up and down excitedly until the impressionable tale that something was wrong came to light. Its little wings were just about to give out. Once they did, he fell. As it lied on the dusty table inside the library, its caretaker's eyes never leaving its form, it gave out one last beating grunt before the wings stopped moving and the girl let out a shuddering breath.

Three days have passed since Hermione's last letter from the mysterious sender of the sparrows. Almost two weeks since the beginning of their secret love affair, and she was no step closer to figuring out who was sending the paper birds and writing the beautiful notes. The words themselves pierced her heart; it was as if the sender knew exactly what would please her, knew what would make her happy, as if they have known her all the life. The sparrows, a symbol she has yet to decipher, was a complete mystery to her. Their meaning was unknown, and so was her admirer.

Hermione's fingers brushed against the under belly of the bird, hoping that her loving caress would wake the sleeping bird. It had worked once before, but she supposed it would not work again. Alas, she was right. The bird did not respond to her touches, and remained in an everlasting slumber.

For weeks she's pondered the thought. She desperately wanted to know who had sent it. So much so that she's even lost some sleep over it. Her dreams were filled with nothing but Sparrows. Why the tiny bird and not something more extraordinary as a Phoenix, she did not know. Maybe it was time to do further research on the creature. At least it would give her some indication as to what the meaning behind the symbol was. Maybe it would even help her find who sent them to her.

She sighed.

This was one of the hardest things to watch, yet the most beautiful. There was something enchantingly alluring about it; though, she couldn't quite place the reason why. Her heart fell because she was unable to keep the bird from dying.

Her eyes flickered toward the open window, where the wind kicked up, causing the slumbering bird into the air. She watched, her eyes growing wide as the bird took flight once again, only to be caught the wind and pulled from the net of safety that she had placed. She watched as it floated away, and out of her vision.

Hermione sighed, distant.

Whilst the bird soared to heaven, her eyes glanced down and a smile appeared on her lovely lips. Although she had lost the birds due to the dwindling power of magic, she still held onto the notes. Out of fear, she wondered if the words upon the parchment would disappear with time. But, they've held on true, even after two or so weeks of carrying them around in her satchel, stealing glances when she was able to, and stuffing them back into her books when anyone came too close. Just as she had done then, she was forced to ruin what she had done on previous days when she noticed Ginny Weasley looking around the library, trying to determine where she was. As she has done in the past, she's changed her usual spot, opting for a more serene place to clear her mind and think. As of late, Ginny's been constantly on her back. For what, she can only imagine, which wasn't very hard to do so. It was no secret at Hogwarts that she had a fight with Ron.

Hermione slide down her chair, making sure that Ginny didn't see her through the fairly thick barrier of students that protected her from her gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her move. Ginny was heading towards her, huffing as she practically scared the younger students away.

She sighed, straightening her posture as she did.

There was just no escaping her.

As soon as she was able to, Ginny slammed her books onto the table, earning her a frown from the older witch.

"Rough day?" she asked, careful to keep her secret. Hermione discreetly placed her books aside, her eyes scanning the loose letters to make sure that they were arranged appropriately.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You would not believe what he's doing now."

"Who, Harry?"

She nodded. "Who else?" Ginny pulled out a chair and sat down. "I've been telling him for weeks now that he should turn in that bloody book of his and he still hasn't done it."

"Well, I've been telling him the same thing too," offered Hermione, almost smiling because of how foolish it was for them to even think that he would listen to them.

"It's like it goes in one ear and comes out the other," she carried on, distressed. "I don't understand why it's so interesting. It's like he's turned into you, no offense."

Hermione giggled." Oh, come off it. I'm sure he has a reasonable explanation as to why he's kept it for so long. Eventually he'll get bored with it. But, you're right. It is rather odd that he's so attached to it."

"It is, isn't it?" Ginny quipped. "I mean, it's a _book_ for Merlin's sake."

"Oh, yes. How horrendous!"

Both girls laughed at the small joke. Of course Harry was not prone to read, or even open a book for that matter, but the idea of him actually taking the time to study for Potion's was a phenomenon of its own. Both boys had a penchant for procrastinating until the very last second, so having the book on hand was something to secretly thank in the privacy of their own accord. One way or another, however, this book was going to lead them both into a heap of trouble, and neither girl was going to be there to help them.

"I'm sure he'll lose interest soon enough," mused Hermione, thoughtfully. Though, she couldn't pretend that there wasn't something odd about that book. If she could just place her finger on it…

Several moments escaped them before either of them spoke again.

"So, anything new with you?" Ginny asked as if her friend would divulge anything remotely different. Hermione did the same thing every day, and even conversing with her friends was always accounted for. Where was she going with this? "I heard you and Ron fought a couple of weeks ago."

Hermione nodded, toying with her quill as she did so. The ruffled feathers stroked teasingly at the sides of her fingers as a slight blush rose to her cheeks.

If it was one thing she did not want to talk about was the fight that she had with her older brother.

"We did," she confirmed. "And, over something completely childish."

"From what I've heard," said Ginny, cautiously," he said some things he shouldn't have said."

"He did." Confirmed Hermione with a murmur. "Your brother likes to think that rules don't matter. I just don't understand why it's so hard to abide by them."

"Well, he does have you to do that for him." Ginny told her. "Plus, I can kind of see where he is coming from. You need to calm down and relax. That always seem to work for him."

"He isn't a saint!" cried the curly-haired witch. "He acts like I'm in the wrong, that I should be the one reprimanded! Well, he's the one who should be more cautious! What if that little boy had proceeded with his plan? Do you realize how disastrous it would have been? Your brother doesn't realize that the consequences of one's actions would be dire even if it smacked him upside the head. I-"

In that moment, her eyes landed on a lone red-haired figure. Ron Weasley stood before them, his eyes grazing over Hermione and in one swift second, they turned drastically dark. Something told Hermione that he had come to apologize because his eyes, which had lit up with the prospect of hope that she would forgive him, had vanished entirely from his orbs. He now stood with his hands inside the pockets of his black slacks, his gaze clouded with unadulterated hate.

She never felt so ashamed in that moment than she did now. Even if she was completely right.

"So, that's what you really think, eh?"

"Ron, I-"

"Save it," he hissed. "I don't want to hear it. I came to apologize but I guess I was wrong, huh? 'Even if it smacked me upside the head'." He mimicked her voice atrociously, shaking his head before turning on his heel and leaving. Harry had been standing in the distance. He said nothing, nodding once before rushing after his friend.

Ginny remained unnaturally silent for a few minutes.

"Should I…" she looked at Hermione," should I go talk to him?"

Shaking her head, Hermione tried to hold back the tears that swelled up inside her eyes. She was flushed with anger and embarrassment. Angry at Ron for being a prat while they were patrolling the halls two weeks ago, and herself for exploding the way she did.

Why did he have to be so bloody difficult? Finding the nerve to apologize two weeks after the fact and then coming to her in her most natural habitat, only to hear the negative thoughts that have been bottled up since that night? Merlin, he was such a bastard, but she was a bitch for betraying him in that way. She felt horrible. The only way she could avoid being caught crying was to ignore the calls of her friend, grab her belongings, and dash toward the other side of the library, as if escaping the inevitable and irreversible end to a long-lasting friendship.

She couldn't believe that she had belittled him in front of his sister, and to his face no less. How could she be such a horrible friend? Had she no shame?

Apparently not.

Hermione escaped to a section normally closed off during the day. It was fairly close to the Restricted Section, but not so much of a hazard to anyone who was in good with the librarian. She was safe for now. As she walked around, her fingertips brushing the spines of the tomes that called noisily to her, she let the tears escape their prison and sobbed like she's never sobbed before.

Everything came out. Her anger towards Ron, the years of mistreatment, then pitiful excuses and apologies, the whispers that taunted her even after their owners left- everything.

She knew that Ron was a prat, and that his inconsideration steamed from being the youngest Weasley boy, not to mention only knowing the gentleness of his mother and sister. Yet, she couldn't help think that this was more of his fault than hers. No matter what her mind wanted to think, it was her heart that had any true say in her emotions and actions.

That's probably why so many people couldn't tolerate her. With all her flaws and insecurities that she's buried inside her through the years, it came as no surprise to her that some just found her so-

"Fuck!" hissed a voice from nowhere.

A hard body collided with her, causing her to let out gasp. Within moments she found herself flat on the floor and nursing a bruised wrist where she forced her weight onto it. Books barricaded her in an almost barrier-like circle. Whomever it had been had caused more of an impact and resounding touch that she initially suspected. Wincing from the discomfort, she rubbed it, pulling her gaze to see what kind of damage was done. Someone was still standing in front of her, their perfectly polished dress shoes mere inches from her.

Startled, Hermione looked up, gasping at the figure as it became clearer through the tears. Terrified, she attempted to scoot away as the student she ran into glared down at her, his steel grey eyes tearing through her. Light blonde hair fell over them, drastically tampering the intensity of his hateful gaze whilst deepening the hue of his beautiful eyes. Dressed in emerald green, he appeared like a snake ready to strike.

Draco Malfoy.

She had bumped into the arrogant prat.

The Slytherin Prince.

Wetting her lips, terrified of what kind of brutal retorts he would shoot her today, Hermione struggled to stand, but managed to do so strongly and without faltering too badly. Malfoy watched unhurriedly, contemplating something that she has yet to decipher.

But, nothing came.

It was so strange.

Hermione gauged him carefully, considering since he was well known to change at a second's unnoticed sound. He seemed darker, more dangerous. Like some sort of curse had been placed on him, or he matured entirely too fast. Something about the half-moons that stuck out underneath his eyes, his hallowed cheeks, and frightened, distant expression made Hermione wonder if Harry said was true.

He just could not be a Death Eater. He was much too young, too inexperienced. The thought of someone giving him the Mark was just so beyond her that she couldn't even fathom the notion of it at all. Who in the world would do that to a sixteen year-old boy? To take away their innocence and make them do something so horrid? She did not know.

As she pulled away from her reverie, she realized that he was talking. Through the haze, she was able to hear the tail end of his sentence.

"-strife with Weaslebee. Whatever you did must have really angered him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she frowned, not liking at all where this was leading.

Draco smirked. "Didn't hear me, huh?" Her silence spoke louder than words. "Well, let me reiterate, Mudblood since you're incapable of listening. Merlin knows you could be heard all over bloody creation and don't care in the slightest about voice control- I really do have to commend you, though. For not only finally standing up for yourself, but for putting Weaslebee back into the level where he belongs."

"And, exactly where would that be, Malfoy?"

"In the dirt." A grin stretched across his face.

A resounding smack of hand meeting soft flesh echoed around them. Before either of them time to analyze what Hermione had done, Draco had taken the hand that she used to strike him, spun her around, and pushed her harshly against the row of books. The weight was just as unbearable and painful as the flooding rush of blood that ignited on his left cheek. Flushed with anger, Draco stared down at her, his heavy breathes fanning across her face. There was a killer glint in his eye. In that moment, no matter how mad that he had made her, she knew that it was a mistake to slap him.

No on touched Draco Malfoy.

This had been certain, until Hermione unknowingly threatened that universal notion.

With her hands pinned to the books, her legs shaking, tears building up in her eyes, the inevitable was upon her- she was either going to receive the same treatment as she had given him, or worse.

Hermione didn't know what to expect, so she prepared for the worse.

"If you ever do that to me again, Granger," he leaned in, his voice no high than whisper," I will see to it that you are removed from this school and that your wand is permanently broken. Do you understand?"

Channeling all her willpower, she gave him a nod, trying to keep herself from crying.

If there was one thing that he could not take from her it was her dignity.

He stayed there for another escaped minute before pulling away, staring down at her darkly. Backing away, he retreated from the realm that he had appeared from.

Draco left her as she was, leaving her to cry in the sanctuary of her passion.

* * *

He stormed out of the library. His rage palpable, and with each purposeful step, it grew exponentially to the point that he had to push those who stood in his way out of his path. Magic circulated through his body like vicious fumes; his eyes were caught in a hardened glare, and his hands were clutched into fists. While the profundity of what just happened circulated like an unrelenting scene, his mind just could not wrap itself around it.

The fucking bitch had slapped him!

A snarl escaped his lips as his heart continued to beat uncharacteristically inside his chest. A lustful glimmer travelled like a chariot in the sky across the darkened iris of his eyes. Never in his whole life did he ever feel such unbearable anger; the little twat had humiliated him. Fuck touching him with her disgusting hands, it was the fact that she held that power over him. Even for a moment, it was a disturbing, unrealistic dream. She would never be able to feel as victorious as he knew she felt again. He promised right then and there to seek revenge if that was the last thing he did.

Although the residual sting had long sense gone away, it was the profound way in which she had delivered her animosity. Never in his wildest fantasies did he ever think she had it in her. To think that she had that kind of fire burning slowly within the chambers of her heart was something to marvel at and hate with all his undying passion. The fire, the unyielding torch that had been placed inside her- Christ, where the _fuck_ was she hiding her? Had Granger any idea of the absolute spectacle that she created? Forget being hit by her; it was that sweet caress of her hands as the soft side of her fingers made contact with his cheek.

 _Circe_.

He needed to stop with this foolishness.

Forbidden fruit indeed. She made it all the easier to escape from his woes and venture to a far off land where the Dark Lord did not exist, that the task he given him was of no positive notation.

As symbolistic as it was, he needed to stop thinking of her more than a pawn. He needed her. For what, he could not exactly place. Granted, the little enchantress of his heartache and anger was more than a soothing piece of artwork that he would find more appeasable if she wasn't so bloody annoying. But, he was at a complete loss. He didn't have the time to dwindle his thumbs and allow nature to take its course. He needed her total and utter submission for his scheme to work. Without Granger's affection, how else was he supposed to question her about the Room of Requirement.

Those Sparrows he sent her was meant to guide her eventually to the sender, which he wasn't quite ready for yet. There was still a lot more that he needed to sort out before he reached out and invoked her again.

God, what a display that would be. Her secret admirer turning out to be none other than he worst enemy. No matter how genuine he made the letters seem, he could not help wonder about the repercussions and what Granger may do once she does realize who has been sending her the tiny little birds and letters. He knew the innocence of the expression was nothing more than his overactive imagination trying to get the best of him. There was no way that the gesture would be misconstrued.

At least, that is what he has been telling himself these last few weeks.

He gulped, licked his lips and sighed. Through his tirade of unrelenting anger, he had lost himself in thought and was far from his next scheduled class. He was somewhere in the castle. Where, he did not know. Just like the mischievous play of the moving staircase, his heart had taken him deeper into the castle than he was willing to go.

Oh, well.

Snape will just have to deal with it. God knew that the poor DADA Professor could use a good release, and he would only be a nuisance to him seeing that he still hasn't found a safe place to work on the cabinet.

He could only recount sourly about the recent conversation he had with him. One that surely would haunt him for the coming months. His warning meant to help him, and not share him shitless and run around as if his head had been chopped off. Still, a warning was a warning and he couldn't help take his consideration to the amount of time he had to perform the tasks that the Dark Lord has given him.

Time was certainly closing to an end. He found himself in a corner that he didn't know if he could not escape from.

His arm burned and he forced himself to move despite being trapped against his will.

* * *

 **Monday September 23** **rd** **, 1996**

The morning of the twenty-third arrived with the whistling of the wind and an unnaturally cold caress. As a precaution to push the impending season of the flu, Hermione had placed several warming charms on herself and anyone who didn't scare her away. Call her overprotective, smart, or what have you, but she wanted to ensure that her chances of a good term weren't ruined by something that could have been easily prevented.

"People are talking about you," said Ginny with a slight laugh. "They're saying to watch out for you and that your name may be used for this season's virus."

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. Still frigidly cold, she hardly had the energy to provide the girl with a good retort. Her next class was in the Dungeons, and after that she had Defense Against the Dark Arts, to which Harry insisted was helping Malfoy with whatever task he was given by You-Know-Who.

She would be thrilled that he was still on speaking terms if it wasn't for Ron. Every time they tried to speak to one another, he would appear from nowhere and demand his attention by engaging him in conversation about the tryouts, or if he will ever make it on the team. Whatever he thought would anger her the most, his actions and words knew no bounds.

"Can we please stop talking about that?" begged Hermione; though, she knew it was wrong of her to even try to appeal to the school's sensibilities. Who knew going around and asking them would lead to this sort of taunting? "Just drop it, alright? It's not like anyone was thankful for enchantment, anyway."

"Oh, no. Not it slightest, Granger."

Groaning, Hermione and Ginny immediately halted and turned to find Draco standing with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, two of his closest allies. Whatever happed to Crabbe and Goyle would have to be saved for a later date for it looked like Malfoy had something to get off his chest, or mind.

"I have to say, Mudblood. You continue to amaze me," drawled the Heir. "Who knew you were this… _liberal_? Gone around asking if you could warm someone up, have you? Thought cozying up some poor bloke would earn you-"

"Enough, Draco." Came a dark, familiar voice.

A pale hand came to rest on the Prince's shoulder and all five students looked up to find none other than Severus Snape standing behind Malfoy. His presence alone was enough to suck all the warmth from the air, replacing it with pure coldness.

The newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor didn't seem all to happy wasting his precious time by stopping his star pupil's early morning attempt to get a rise out of Hermione. Even if the pure pleasure of it wasn't more admirably pleasing, the older wizard whose penchant for reckoning of the severe sort looked all but supportive of his intrusive acts.

"Is there a problem?" his baritone voice cut the air like a knife. Snape looked between the two meddling students before settling his eyes on the student of his own house. "Well, Draco? I trust that whatever… disagreement you have found with Miss Granger can surely wait until a more appropriate time to discuss?"

"Yes, sir." Through a clenched jaw, Hermione noticed the amount of restraint that Malfoy was holding onto. One that prevented him from breathing a single word to her in his presence. An eerie premonition, but one she would not take without warning, either. "I was just about to suggest that to her, sir. You know how Granger is. Being a know-it-all Gryffindor, she just has to let the world know of her vast knowledge."

"Indeed."

A ping of mistrusted hurt gripped her. Of course the slime ball would agree with him!

"Well, I see there is no point of prolonging this thirst to prove herself." said Snape before he turned and presented both girls with daggers the size of well-crafted wands. "As for you two, ten points each from Gryffindor for being late."

"But-"

Just as Hermione was about to speak, a bell sounded in the distance but it was a lost cause. Both were only a few hurried turns away from their next class, not to mention it was noon and they were on their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Neither of them voiced this concern as Malfoy snickered soundlessly beside their Professor.

Biting her tongue and grounding herself was the only thing that kept Hermione from snapping at both of them. Like Professor, like student; there was no visible distinguishment between the two. No doubt of the deep friendship that Snape and Malfoy's father shared.

The hurt of a twenty-point loss for their house was all too unbearable. Hermione had to grip her forearm, her nails digging right into her skin to prevent herself from crying in front of both of them.

As she watched the scene before her unfold, she could have sworn that Malfoy's eyes trickled over to her and showed something that she never thought she would ever receive from him.

Honest sincerity.

But whatever it really was, she brushed it off as something that her overactive mind was tricking her into believing that is what she saw. Malfoy would never be sincere about anything he did, even in the apologetic sense.

When Snape had finished speaking to him, Hermione and Ginny left, her mind working in countless ways to solve the conundrum that was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

A current silence hovered over them as they worked quietly amongst themselves. Occasionally, an explosion of misshapen confusion would break out, but other than that the classroom remained relatively silent.

It was days like these that made Hermione wish that she had a companion. Sure, she loved Ancient Runes, but without partnership, someone to talk to, it was positively boring. The only thing that she had was the letter that she had received from her admirer accompanied by a rather amusing proclamation. She had asked him how he had been able to construct the paper sparrows. Always keen on learning something knew, she believed that he would provide some direction as how he was able to do it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. _A wizard never reveals his secrets._

Granted, it was humorous and elicited the sort of giggles best suited for little girls, she still wanted to know. This magic was characteristically different. Well developed, actually. Truly a masterpiece. She just did not know who it belonged to.

 _I have come to know what humors you._ She continued to read the letter from her newly acquainted friends. Her eyes drift over the words again, and she let out a pleasant sigh.

 _You must be wondering why I have chosen such a magnificent creature. As I have continued to state, sparrows are truly one of the world's most notable wanderers of the air. Even a tedious task as preparing the nest does not deter her; she is perfectly balanced and her mindset is very much admirable. Very much like you, I might add._

A slight blush acquainted her cheeks, welcoming the steady increase of her heartbeat as the words opened up to her once more to his deepest desires.

Which was something she yet to figure out.

No one was this considerably nice without reason, and it did worry her that whoever it was had been inflicted by some horrid reason to mess with her. A girl's heart was fragile, even hers. Not that she's never had her heart broken. With a frown, she pushed back the thoughts that threatened to rise. Ron was a git. Everyone knew that, but for whatever reason, he had acted completely out of character the night that the Sparrows came to her. Though, she was no better with her emotions, and she had hoped through the intense and rigorous exercise of researching would provide her with some kind of comfort.

That turned out to be an exhaustible example that proven to be the most tedious of tasks.

She had done as much research that her mind would accommodate. Countless hours were spent looking up these birds. From _Care of Magical Creatures_ to a simple bird-watching handbook in the Muggle section of the library- nothing useful or noteworthy came up. The information that he had provided her did not help her, either. It was as if he wanted to keep the mystery of the birds a secret, as if the magic of it would lose its light if she knew how to conjure them. And that was it...

…that was what sparked sudden intrigue, something that she wouldn't have considered if it wasn't for that single word.

She recounted something he mentioned in one of his first letters:

 _To avoid a heavy heart, they tend to keep their burdens light._

If that was true, then why did they strive to be the most perfected version of themselves? For something so small, they sure were productive and attentive to the needs of other's. Surely, for a creature so small, they would have learned to keep their troubles to a minimum.

As she pondered this, a thought that she never considered rose from the blackened ink of his words.

Perhaps it was not the Sparrows he was talking about.

Maybe, he could very well be making these observations about her.

* * *

Draco's fingers brushed against the delicate handwritten words. His eyes were perpetually entranced by the neatness, the curvature of each letter. He was particularly fond of the way the G's and H's were written, as they were the leading letters of her first and last name.

It was always a relied whenever he received a response to one of his letters. As they spoke quite frequently, he literally awaited them whenever too much time separated the last one and the next. The rigorousness of the day, the demanding nature of school, Quidditch practice, tests, studying and whatever else that might make it impossible for a moment of his time had become the nemesis of his days. He didn't know whether it was out of anxiousness or the simple fact that he was planning on using her for a higher cause, but he was becoming more and more attached to the Mudblood as the days passed.

No, not Mudblood.

For some reason that word sent the wrong vibrations to course through his body. He loathed and valued the word, yet he couldn't stand the thought of attaching it to something as pure and inviting as Hermione Granger.

These past three weeks has given him hope. Not in the traditional sense, but as in the rejuvenated way that a cup of coffee or a needle of the most delicious substance could provide. He has learned things never thought possible. A simple, little girl who had the world opened up to her had given him the key that would unlock that same door. He never once thought about anything other than what he had been conditioned to believe. Not that his mother and father were against knowledge; it was the knowledge of the most scandalous kind that was forbidden to hold that they were worried about. They, much like the Muggles, were concerned about things they just did not understand. But who could blame them? Especially with a world so beautiful and filled with deadly beliefs and consequences, of course they would be a bit cautious about allowing him to explore the deeper reality of both worlds.

And that was what made Granger so attractive.

She wasn't afraid of going beyond the spectral plane in which they lived; she was adventurous, knowledgeable, and above all, spirited. Probably too spirited for her own good. For something so innocent, anyone could come and take her and no one would be the wiser.

Draco leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was nearing eleven, and he still hadn't replied to the letter that she had sent him.

It was amusing. She spoke of how she still hadn't figured out how he was able to conjure the sparrows, and even used his famously out words of ' _a wizard never reveals his secrets_.'

That was certainly true. He had a feeling if she were able to figure the charm for the sparrows, she would be able to discover the identity of the sender of the letters. That, he noted, could not happen until the right time was near.

No one must know of these exchanges, especially not the Dark Lord. If someone were to catch wind of this interaction between him and Granger, it would surely not end well. Luckily, the only other people who had any inkling to his dismayed infatuation with the Gryffindor Princess swore to him not to breath a single word to anyone. Their loyalty to his cause was more than he could ever express gratitude for. Only they understood the increased strain that the task that has been placed upon him.

"Struggling for words?" came Theodore Nott's voice as he approached him with reserved blankness. "Shall I go fetch a dictionary?"

"No dictionary will help, my dear friend." Blaise Zabini chuckled as he joined his friends in the Common Room.

As much as he appreciated his friends they could not have picked a worse time to make themselves present.

"Don't you two have somewhere else to be?"

"At eleven o'clock?" asked Theo before laughing. "No, not that I can recall. Unless you want me to be somewhere else, Malfoy."

He narrowed his eyes and glared menacingly at him.

"Relax," he threw his hands in front of him, laughing even harder. "I merely wanted to pay some respect to you before adjourning to bed. Something you should at least consider doing before day breaks."

"I will go to bed when I feel like it."

Blaise looked at him, his features as expressionless as always. "Are you not tired?"

Draco shook his head, his eyes transfixed completely on Granger's letter. He had yet to read the rest, too frightened as to what it might say. This always seemed to happen with her pleasantly detailed and long letters. His heart pounded against his ribs and his hands began to sweat.

He was nervous, but why? Why be nervous when she always brought the best out of him despite without her knowledge?

Of course his mates were able to catch onto the dilemma for they took a seat by the window and looked at him with the upmost concern.

His arm throbbed and it took every bit of his leftover strength to ignore it. The Dark Lord was commanding him to do something, and it seemed like he had lost his patience.

"He's mad." noted Blaise. "Have you found a solution to your problem?"

"If you mean have I found the fucking room then no, Blaise." Bit out Draco as the pain ran up his arm and spread across his chest. "Fuck!"

Theo reached out and touched his arm and an instant warmth spread over him. He didn't know what he had done, what nerve he had pressed, but Draco was thankful for his assistance. He would do the same if either of them were in the same predicament.

"You need more time."

"What I need is a miracle." He murmured as he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window, pondering.

How in the world was he supposed to do this? Albeit, the instructions were very clear, it seemed nearly impossible when he put it into actual practice. He only ever found the Room of Requirement a handful of times, and that was just last year when he wasn't plagued with restrictions. When he was more careful. Now, when his leash was literally as long as the Dark Lord would allow, he couldn't go about things in the normal way. He was gifted with _Occlumency,_ something that his father and Godfather had proclaimed of its importance for years. It was the only revenue that he had that reflected any attacks from the Dark Lord. It allowed him to be more free than most of his other followers, giving him a longer leash. Not too much of a distance, but enough to do things that would seem completely daring.

He was going to cozy up to Granger, and eventually reveal to her of his identity. Hopefully, if all things went according to plan, she would be able to help him find the Room of Requirement. As the title entailed, it wasn't just about finding a damn room to fix the cabinet; he needed a room that he could call his. A room of safety, of comfort. A room that would provide him more than everything else could give to him.

There was a lot more to it than he ever thought possible.

And it was through the thought of using Granger for his own nefarious needs that made it impossible to find any amount of sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to write such short chapters. Even if they were only 3,000 words a piece. It's just not me. I hope y'all don't mind me merging what I do have. Another chapter will come next Tuesday, hopefully around the same time as this one did. I like staying in Draco's point of view. Let me know, yeah? :) Please, please don't hate me for merging the chapters! I was just exceedingly difficult for me to write what I wanted/envisioned.

With that said, see you next week!

-Carolare Scarletus


	4. Unsuspecting Serpent

_As always, enjoy!_

 ** _A/N down below_**

* * *

 _.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter Three_

 _Unsuspecting Serpent_

 _.~._

* * *

~*- Heed to the perfect warning lest you find something amiss-*~

* * *

 **Friday** **September 13** **th** **, 1996**

Draco let their eyes roam over him as he stalked the halls and parted their masses. As he walked, the end of his robes bellowed behind him and he issued an aggravated his that pressed past his lips and sent his paramours scurrying the opposite direction. He stormed the path that he was sure that he had taken before. In his earnest, he was certain that they had travelled this way, but there was no way of knowing if the two had even come this way unless he cared to stop and ask someone if they had seen them. Unfortunately, no one had and the only thing that he had to go by was some scared little first year who almost shit himself when Draco asked him if he had seen Nott and Zabini.

The fuckers were going to get it.

In their earnest to find favor with him and help out a friend, they had finished his letter to Hermione and sent it to the witch with his owl. Although it was still early and breakfast hadn't been served yet, there was still a window of opportunity to find the blasted bird and snatch the letter before it dared enter the Great Hall. Once he does, he hoped that the two were far from the castle and grounds because he was going to shove his fist so far up their asses that they wished they hadn't tried to help him. But first, he had to find that fucking bird.

It was undeniably cold in the corridor. It felt like the entire enclosure had been casted in an eternal season of winter, and the only way to appease the gripping cold was to huddle together like frigid animals and pray that that encompassing coldness passed before death took him. This was not the sort of expression that normally lingered off the Serpentine corridor. Countless patrons have taught this cursed subject, many of them finding a means to their own ends, other facing the horrid face of death right in the face while their fears manifested in a scrawny little boy with a distinct lightening scar upon his stupid little forehead.

Draco seethed. It was too damn early to have to deal with him.

He didn't sleep so well last night, having finding sleep less alluring than it had been for weeks.

As he stood, his back against the wall, pansy clinging onto him like some horrid banshee, he reflected.

His mind was riddled with mystery. It was not what his mates had said to him, much less did that held his attention. It was the simple fact that what he was about to do in order to get closer to the Muggleborn that had him on edge.*

Theo had suggested it, of course. Blaise didn't put much of an effort to stop him. In fact, there had been an encouraging glint in the Italian's eye if he recalled correctly. Oh, yes. They both seemed to want to see how the little witch would react to the stunt that he was going to perform.

Quite tragically, he suspected. The goody little two shoes was far from being tainted, but this was going to question her prudent ways. He was about to turn he life upside down all in hopes of getting just a little bit closer to her. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy prayed that it didn't backfire on him and he was at the wrong end of the witch's wrath. He just needed to buy just a bit more time, get her to open up to him. Hopefully then, he would be ready to exploit her for all she's worth.

He recollected the conversation he had with his mates quietly. It was Blaise who brought it up but he hadn't thought about it since. When he did, he let his curiosity get the better of him and asked what he meant.

He arched a brow then elaborated. "I am talking about the Gryffindor Princess, of course. You are sure to cause quit the stir. She is not the least bit docile. She will loath you for what you are about to do to her."

"She'll get over it." He seethed. "You're forgetting that she won't be the only one who suffers."

"I don't know, mate," said Theo thoughtfully," it can't be that bad. I would love to have a night alone with the little lion cleaning cauldrons and scrubbing down tables. I'm sure all that hard work would do wonders for me, too. Imagine: Hermione Granger becoming too hot and taking off her robes, her delicious little-"

A hand caught him around the throat and his airway was immediately cut off. Stormy grey eyes locked onto his as a hiss forced its way from deep between his lips. He was seething with rage. Theodore clawed desperately at his hands, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Seconds ticked by, then a fully minute then two before Draco pulled away, dropping his hands while he watched his mate fall to the floor, coughing and wheezing.

"W-what the f-fuck was that-for?" he heeled over, leaning over his forearm as he tried to catch his breath. He could still feel the Heir's gaze on him. "Seriously, Draco. What the fuck?"

"Never," he stepped closer to him, kneeled down, pointing his wand at the Slytherin," talk about her like that again. Understood?"

Theo let out a howl of pain. He knew very well not to mess with him, but damn! How was he supposed to know that his little joke would go too far? He never seemed to care either way about the Mudblood until now.

It was a silly little thought, but he had to try.

"It seems," Theo coughed again," that you may be hiding something from us."

Draco considered his statement for a minute. "What are you saying?"

"Come on, Draco. I'm not stupid." He sat up, looking him dead in the eye. "Blaise would agree with me. You have a thing for Granger."

Almost on cue, like a curse, the witch came waltzing down the corridor holding more books than she could possibly carry. She looked flush and there was a slight tint in her cheeks that he's never seen before. Perhaps it was from the chilly hallway. Draco pondered this for a moment before turning back to Theo.

He was a fool.

He acted as if he knew him, but that could be farther from the truth. For years he's tried to justify his little obsession with the Muggleborn. For someone to call him out on it was more than he ever thought he could handle. It meant that he was weak, that he might as well have let his father down, gone against everything that his parents taught him. He was quite ashamed, but not for the reasons most Purebloods would be. He was ashamed because he couldn't be anything but a coward. He hid behind these feelings because he knew he couldn't act upon them and it hurt him greatly just thinking about what he was planning to do.

Would she find the heart to forgive him? Maybe. But, he knew Granger enough to know that it wouldn't be an easy task.

Nothing was ever easy for him.

Draco didn't want to think about what he had done to Nott, even if he did deserve it. He was just so nosy and the fact that he took his letter and was running around Hogwarts with it as a little trophy for all to see had him drowning with so much anger that he was afraid that he would explode if he didn't find him. He shoved apart anyone who stood in his way as he made it to the owlry, coming to a sudden halt. He pressed himself to the wall, looking over his shoulder and held his breath. There, he found something that he wished he hadn't.

Hermione was tending to an injured owl. If she hadn't been in the corridor, a whole family of them would be watching as she mended the owl's broken wing and petted the delicate pelt with her long, slender fingers. A frightened hoot and flutter of the good wing indicated that the owl was not pleased by not flying; he wished to soar, and that was exactly what the wish was hoping he could continue to do after he was healed. The owl was incredibly small; it couldn't be no bigger than the size of an orange and yet the tender creature was being helped by a witch that would go out of her way for just about anything and anyone because it was in her nature to do so. Draco watched, casted a disillusion charm on himself and remained silent.

"Oh, goodness." a voice that sounded a lot like one of the Pavarti twins stuttered," Thank you so much, Hermione! I was going to take her to Madam Pomfrey, but I didn't think she would take too kindly to helping me heal my owl. Mum would've killed me if she found out that Scril fell sick!"

The witch smiled at her. "Of course. I'm glad I was able to help you. And, if it's any consolation," she straightened, dusting herself off," Crookshanks has fallen sick on several occasions, but he always seems to recover nicely after some tender love and care. Animals just need time and patience and then they'll be on their way."

"You speak as if he gets sick quite often."

"He…" she searched for the right word," likes to get into a bit of trouble. He once ate something of Harry's and it turned out to be Bubbly Warball. He was hiccupping bubbles for weeks." She shared a laugh with the witch before adding, "You have nothing to worry about, Pavarti. Scril will be fine."

The witches gravitated away. Draco watched the exchange between them silently, his heart racing, his hands clenched together. He could feel the blood supply to his finger cut off and his legs lock up. He stood there contemplating for a while. During his reflection, Granger had disappeared and it took several frantic glances to make sure she wasn't anywhere in sight. The last thing he needed was her to find him and accuse her of stalking her. It was still early, and he didn't think she would take too kindly to a morning dose of his derogatory observations. Truth be told, he wasn't in much mood to be hexed by the little witch, either. He would rather keep his ass as it was along with his jewels.

He looked around the corner and just as he was sure that it was safe to move, a dark foreboding voice threatened the air.

"Granger," Nott drawled," I've been looking for you."

Theodore Nott strolled leisurely down the corridor, his hands in his pockets as he sucked on a cherry lollipop that he stole from one of his many admirers. Draco knew what that meant. He had shagged someone quite recently and she had been a Hufflepuff. Not exactly his cup of tea. Hufflepuff girls tended to be too clingy, but he was still enamored. If the sweet ache in his back had any indication of the tryst, it was the love bites that hide behind a glamor that surely did. He was sedated, for now. His real objective was to find a rather obsessed Snake who had ignored the calls of his concern.

A smirk played on his lips. It appeared as though he had found his target.

Hermione hadn't moved far. She was now standing down the hall and next to the next intersection of the corridors. The witch turned around, confused. Her eyes furrowed. He was the last person she wanted to see, or one of the last people. Although she didn't motion to move, the need to move played in her eyes, flashing obnoxiously as Draco moved to watch them.

"What is it, Nott?" Her voice didn't miss a beat. She was irritated.

"I've got something for you that I think you would be interesting in reading." He held up an envelope. Form where Draco stood, he could make out the creamy envelope and his heart quickened. It was his letter to her! The fucking bastard! "Am I correct?"

"It depends," she quipped.

"On what?"

"Who is it from?"

Nott chuckled. Draco knew that the wizard was thinking of him by the way his eyes twinkled knowingly. Although he rarely asked for their help, it was their damn snooping that got them into trouble. They never seem learn to keep their noses out of other people's business, especially his. Now, it seemed that Nott couldn't resist the sweet temptation of getting close to the witch and threatening the thing that he's been working so hard for.

He wasn't going to let him do that, though.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, her eyes hardening.

"Well," she asked. "Who is it from?"

Nott fanned the letter on himself, alleviating whatever heat that had sudden caught between them. Draco noticed the act immediately and growled. It was as if the bastard was asking for trouble! It was always a pleasure teasing the little witch since she was always generous with her exaggerating outbursts. She was so easy to manipulate. He knew this otherwise, he wouldn't bother to encourage her. But there was no way that she would fall for his obvious acts of seduction. He could at least give her credit for not even acknowledging it, not that he thought she would.

"Don't' get your knickers in a twist, Granger, said Nott as he handed the letter that was pinched between his pointer and middle finger. "I don't know who it's from, so don't ask me again. You'll just have to find out for yourself."

Hermione frowned, but accepted the envelope anyway. Just as she was about to snatch it from his idle hand, he grabbed her wrist with his other and reeled her. She made a little sound that sounded like ' _oomph_ " when her face collided into his chest. She wiggled about, but he kept her there for another second before pulling her from him and smiling.

"Wanted a little reward for going out of my way to deliver it to you," he murmured. "You're welcome."

"Thank you."

"I meant the hug. It's not every day I get to hug a little lioness" He chuckled. "Even if it is you."

Hermione blush flowered about her cheeks and she remained flustered even as she turned and scurried away in the direction where Draco was hiding. He ducked quickly, listening as the scraping of her shoes caressed the corridor floor. As she walked by, he caught sight of the letter and grimaced. He wanted it and was downright angry that Nott had given it to her personally rather than letting his owl do it for him. While he seethed, he thought back to the scene that he witnessed. She had been so loving, so careful. He wondered if she was as gentle with his owl because he always seemed to come back to him in higher spirits than he left. Even he was growing fond of her!

The Pureblood pinched the bridge of his nose. Not only was he swimming in his own anger, his testosterone was through the roof! He needed a deflating drought and quick, otherwise he would have to walk around with a raging hard on for the rest of the day. It wasn't because of any recent action he's gotten. It was because of a certain witch and her tenderness that made him want to…

…someone was standing in front of him.

He opened his eyes and the muscles in his face tightened. Theodore was smirking. A smirk worthy of praise, but a smirk no less.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" he launched himself at him but he dodge him.

Theo was rather quick on his feet and even quicker now that he had delivered his letter to Hermione.

"I was hoping for quite a performance from you today, Malfoy." He said as he tried to calm him down. "Fortunately for you, I've taken care of business."

Draco turned and glared at him. "By stealing my fucking letter to her? What in bloody hell were you thinking?"

He seemed confused, but was quick to erase any lingering doubt on his face. In fact, instead of a scowl, his features broke out in triumphant delight. It was as if he was waiting to run into him. He wanted nothing more to see him crumble and fall apart.

"That?" he laughed. "You saw that, yeah?

Draco didn't answer.

"It was a letter from Slughorn. He gave it to Blaise yesterday and he didn't have the chance to give it to her. Something about a gathering next week." Theo shook his head and laughed again. His voice rang out around him like a deep, low bell. He found the situation just that funny. "I can't believe you thought I gave her you letter. I wouldn't have given it to her. Granted, I thought about it but there were so many errors that I just couldn't take the humiliation of her reading it and grimacing at how atrocious your spelling is. She probably would have call off the entire affair if she realizes that her admirer couldn't spell. I would have loved to get a picture of it, though."

He was about to say something about Malfoys were great spellers when he stopped himself and frowned.

How could he have been so stupid to think that Nott had it? Speaking of his letter, where was it then?

"Keep your knickers together." Said Nott, calming down. "I don't have it and neither does Zabini. I do recall you folding it up and placing it somewhere. Most likely in your desk. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't read it all. Just the story bit. I didn't know you could tell stories. You're quite skillful with words."

"That was a private matter."

"So is masturbating, but nothing is more interesting than reading something that you've spent hours writing."

The Pureblood narrowed his eyes. So, he did read it!

"My statement still stands, Nott."

"Which one? The one about masturbating?"

"No," her growled murderously. "You better hope Zabini is more liberal or I'm going to have both of your asses on my mantle for the holidays."

He held a copious amount of anger toward him. He would have had a bloody heart attack, but at least he was saved form certain doom. Even if Nott was blistering with uncontrolled amusement, Draco was safe. He stepped back from the Slytherin, composing himself the best he could as he tried to make light of the situation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get over the fear of almost being found out. Granger was smart, he'd give her that. The fact that she hadn't figured out who was sending the letters was well beyond him.

As Draco turned on his heels and proceeded without a word to Nott, a funning feeling began to settle within him. Suddenly, he had an idea.

"Where are you going?" Theo asked, trying to keep his strides with his. "We have class in thirty minutes."

"Common Room."

"Why on earth-"

"Just shut up, Nott. There is something I need to do before class. I'll see you later."

But Theo didn't leave. He just stopped and stared at him. Sensing his heated gaze, Draco stopped and turned to face him.

"What?"

"You know, she's going to figure it out eventually."

"I know. It hasn't escaped my knowledge, Nott."

Theo swayed from one foot to the other, his hands in his pocket. Of his friends, he was the least vocal. Zabini would have spit it out by now, and wouldn't have made such a huge scene. "What're going to do?"

Draco was silent for a moment. Then, he exhaled dejectedly and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't have time for this. He didn't know what he was going to do except make her hate him even more. As much as he loved that spark of rage in her eyes, he couldn't handle it if she were to sink more into the untouchable void that was hate. He needed to get out of here and quick. At least then he would have some leverage on what he was planning to do. With stormy eyes, Draco looked at Theo and exhaled.

"I'll just have to see." he said softly.

He was safe. That's all that matter.

* * *

She could feel his eyes on her. They seemed to have glued themselves to her body, their penetrating graces disturbing even her resolve. No matter where she went, Hermione couldn't get away from the seventh year Gryffindor and his excessive stalking. As she browsed the literature section of the library, he shifted from one side of the aisle to the other, flickering his eyes over to her until she had no choice but to put back the book she had been holding and move to the other end. He followed of course. It was in their nature to be very persistent.

Cormac McLaggen was a pretty boy. By some standards, he might as well be dropped dead gorgeous. His sand-kissed hair, smooth skin and piercing eyes made it fairly easy to fall for him. Hermione didn't buy his strong aura and dominating demeanor. The only that that she could account for was that he was very annoying and that she had to find a way to get away from him.

Hermione let the feeling of the spines of the books be her guide. As much of a nuisance as he was, she had found some solidarity peace in the tomes and ancient scriptures surrounding her. She walked slowly down the aisle, a smile caressing her lips. Some were thick with words, others only a few pages of knowledge, but they were books all the same. As she walked, she could hear McLaggen backing away, having given up his pursuit for her. He would be back. He always came back. Until then, however, she was left to breathe a sigh of relief. Who knew ignoring the predator would keep the prey safe?

She looked over her shoulder and sighed. One less thing to worry about.

Her destination was a mystery to her. The only thing she could rely on was that drifting wasn't as bad as one might think and that she had some support for a journey she has yet to take.

 _Sparrow are taken where the wind blows them. There is no set destination because they can make the best of a worst situation and still be able to invest a great deal of time and effort into enjoying their surroundings. Some find themselves in a whole new level they never imagined while others are left to question ever motive before they were brought to their destined placed. They were created to be heard and never seen. Their perspective in life is to enjoy it, and to make most of even given situation, small or big. Underappreciated, but truly remarkable._

 _You remind me a lot like them. The more we talk, the more I have come to understand the basis of your existence and how much your friends have taken advantage of you and how oblivious the other one is for not appreciating you and respecting you._

She's never placed a voice to the letters. With an imagination like hers, she suspected the sender would have a calm, respectable one and marked with no trouble or mirth. Sincere as his words were, she couldn't help but pair them up with a nice voice and alluring tone.

Hermione awoke that morning to a tapping on her dorm window . When she looked up from her pillow, she found the most beautiful owl waiting for her to open her window. In its beak was the reply from her secret admirer.

Although it had only been less than a day since she last heard from him, it felt more than that. Weeks that stretched on forever that was how long it felt to her. The eager witch hurried out of bed, grabbed her wand and swished it around in a quick attempt to clean up her mess before she let the owl in. Once she did, she hurried over the window, unlatched the lock, and opened it, allowing the owl to fly in, circle around the room, and land elegantly on the frame of her four-poster bed.

With little restraint, she was able to tempt him with a treat and she was able to retrieve the letter to which she opened too excitedly, her fingers trembling in the process.

It began with a story and she immediately became enthralled.

She walked back to where her books awaited, reminiscing something that could not easily be forgotten. She had taken Harry with her in hopes that he would find use of the morning but she had been mistaken. The dolt had a permanent smile plastered on his face and the girls sitting just a few tables away were giggling into their hands. They continued to look over at him until the domineering witch say down and shot a glare in their direction. The shut up instantly.

"Will you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Smiling like that?" Hermione hissed. "You're encouraging them."

"Encouraging who?" Harry asked, feigning innocence. "Those Hufflepuff girls?" He waggled his eyebrows and she let out an aggravated sigh. "Or, the Ravenclaws?"

"All of them," the witch couldn't contain her lethal anger. "Will you please stop?"

Harry hadn't really been doing anything particularly offensive. He was only smirking wildly at the overzealous groups of girls that have been gawking at him since arriving at the library. It was the last day of lessons for the week, and one would think that he would want to settle down a bit, but no. He was milking his newly found popularity for everything it was worth. The worst thing about it was that he didn't even know why they were fawning over him! The oblivious fool!

Hermione was not gentle with her approach, either. For the last two weeks or so she's been trying to get him to see that they didn't like him for him, that they were acting on some dark enchantment that had somehow swept over most of the female population of the course of the start of the term. They girls were acting very raucously, like an animal set loose on the zenith of the month. It was disturbing to say the least.

"You know why they're acting like this, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm the Chosen One." He smirked, quickly earning a whack against the side of his head. "Ow! What was that for?"

Hermione only shook her head and proceeded to eat her breakfast. "You're insufferable." She breathed, taking a piece of parchment from her satchel and placed it on the table. She reached out for her favorite ink jar and let out an agitate sigh.

She could practically feel him smile, the stupid git. His profound cockiness was the least of her worries. Although it's only been a few days since Hermione had a falling out with Ron, it felt like an eternity since she's last seen him. She wondered greatly where he was…

After some time, the drones of the girl's that sat a few tables down glimmered to a sudden silence. Harry was presently bored and there were only about twenty minutes before the start of their first lesson. He might have a free period for now, and Hermione warned him that he should be spending his time more wisely, he was determined to use the allotted time for studying for something more genuinely entertaining. He only accompanied her to the library only to shut her up. He was reaping the consequences even as she studied.

"Hermione, please," he begged groggily as he wiped the drool from his mouth and pushed up his glasses so they wouldn't fall off his nose. "How much longer?"

"Just another minute." she said, biting her bottom lip and scanning her notes.

"You said that twenty minutes ago!" Harry banged his head against the table as he listened to the rustle of robes and the scrape of a chair. He learned fairly quickly not to trust the sounds; Hermione was dead set on checking over her essay for Ancient Runes and that she would not allow him to leave her side until she was done. It was almost supper time, and he wanted to get down to the Great Hall before all the good food was taken. At least before desert was served and the entire Hall was sent off to bed. But, she wasn't having it.

"Oh, shush."

"I swear to God, Hermione. I'm starving. It's entirely too early for this."

"Then you shouldn't have agreed to accompany me." The young witch said as she scanned the page that she was on.

"You threatened to zap my-"

Hermione stopped him mid-sentence. There was no need for him to repeat exactly what she had said to him. Merlin knew she wouldn't be able to handle the embarrassment. She was still feeling awkward about it. She just needed to be alone with him, was all. Ron and took up quite a bit of his time and she didn't see why he couldn't spend some time with her. She was selfish, she knew. But it felt like she was losing not only one friend, but another as well. She was only trying to make it clear that he was free to speak to her despite the quarrel between her and Ron.

"How much lon- "

Hermione shot him a look and he immediately misplaced his voice.

With a frown, his chin met the cold wooden table and his forehead banged against its face.

She's been like this since the beginning of breakfast from which she dragged him from the convenience of lonely drifting so he could accompany her to the library for the remaining hour or so before her first class. Much to his dismay, he didn't want to spend the entire time pouring over tomes and reading until his eyes physically hurt when he would much rather partake in resting from the day's endearing exercises. Snape had not let him off easy, not that he ever expected the old dungeon bat to provide any leniency to his daily beatings and indirect insults. He had given them an essay right on the first day and it was due right when they walked into class today. One could dream, though.

Harry proceeded to look over his essay, much to Hermione's satisfaction. It still could use all the help it could get. As Harry scanned noncommittedly over the essay, Hermione let out a rather loud sigh and snatched the parchment. He smiled triumphantly. It was exactly what he was hoping for. Fifteen minutes passed, and she handed him the essay back, fully marked and magically transferred to a piece of parchment. She scolded at his lack of research, but he didn't care. She then proceeded to look over her own DADA essay.

"I-am-so-sick-of-this," he said in between banging his head gently against the table. "I'm literally begging you, Hermione. How much long- "

"Done!" she beamed excitedly as she tossed her parchment back onto the table. "I still have to look over it for any technical errors. I'm afraid I might have written down the wrong Rune, but- "

"Great," he told her dismissively, "you can do that later on your own time. For now, let's go. I'm starving and I know you are too."

Before she could protest, her stomach gave a soft rumbling, neglected sort of sound. She hadn't eaten all day and she could use a good meal before facing his doom.

Hermione giggled as she collected her things, stuffed them into her satchel and stood. As she pushed in her chair, Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her away from the table, through the aisle of books, and out the large double doors of the library. The pair walked in silence. Neither of them up for conversation when the idea of food was so fresh in their minds. Merlin forbid that Harry miss lunch, or wait a couple of minutes so she could look over her essay.

She hadn't kept him that long, has she?

What was a few hours to him, anyway? He would have spent the time feverishly, without understanding of the very idea of it at all. She was merely serving to a higher power and getting what she ought to out of it. Even if she was using that time to look up that darned charm for the birds!

Regardless, she submitted to her own need for food and drink. The charm could wait for another day, as always. She couldn't figure it out on an empty stomach, and he was just as excited to get down to the Great Hall and eat as he was, if not more. Just as they came to the landing of the staircase, harry grabbed her hand and hide her behind him. She collided painfully into his body and wall. Slapping her hand against his chest a couple of times earned her a glare but she was able to gift him with the same sort of pain that she was experiencing.

Her head hurt like hell and it was all his bloody fault!

"Why'd you do that?!" she cried.

"Shh!" he shushed her, peeking behind the wall and withdrawing back. "Someone's coming."

"Oh, you don't say?" she asked sarcastically. "If you hadn't noticed, this is a corridor. We are allowed to- "

"Quiet! They're coming!"

Just then the voice that she was unable to hear became clearer with the silence that Harry forced them to welcome. As they listen, Hermione came to realize that someone was coming, voices that instantly became familiar once they were able to listen to properly from their distance place.

"Will you two shut it?" hissed Malfoy as he came storming down the corridor with his two cronies following some distance behind him.

Crabbe and Goyle looked like they were in pain. Wherever Malfoy was leading them two was causing them to exert themselves to extremities that they clearly were not used to. Employed by the strict and rigorous activity, they began to pant and lose momentum. While Malfoy made it almost to the end of the corridor, they were left to cling onto the walls with all their might, breathing in gulps of oxygen as their large chests rose and fell with each intake of air.

"Come on, Malfoy!" whined Crabbe as he caught his breath. "Can't we just look for it after dinner?"

"So you two can stuff yourselves to the point of puking and complain about being sick?" he hissed with annoyance. "No, I don't think we will. I told you I need to find the room and you two are going to help me."

"Why can't Zabini and Nott do it?" Goyle insisted.

Crabbe nodded frantically, agreeing with his mate.

"Yeah, why didn't you ask them to help?"

Malfoy looked between them and gave them his trademark sneer. Stepping away from where Hermione and Harry stood with their heads tucked into each other's bodies, he walked right up to them, lowering his voice as to allow no one who happened to pass them to hear him.

"They have their own shit to take care of," he seemed to remind them for the last tolerated time. "Need I remind you who we work for?"

The sound of sleeve being pull up met their ears. Harry looked up to find Malfoy showing them something that was on his arm, frightening them into doing what he commanded. Scrunching up his face, he could scarcely make out what the blob of black ink.

Upon closer examination, he found that the tattoo resembled the slithering outline of a snake.

A snake.

With a quickening heartbeat, Harry pressed Hermione more firmly against his side, his eyes raising to meet the nasty little etching to Malfoy's skin.

The Mark of the Follower.

 _His_ legion.

* * *

They stood there for some time until they were certain that the drowned voices of the snakes were left to the hands of the wandering ghosts of the school. Harry pulled away slowly, watching Hermione's expression change quickly from startled prayer to that of confused indecision. She was fighting something, a choice with her mind and heart. She wanted to believe what she just saw, yet she wanted to refute it with everything she was worth.

It didn't take long for her resolve to break and the formidable capture of what she believed to flash across her impeccable line of vision.

"You can't be serious."

Hermione refused to see things for what they really were, much less hear what he had to say.

"Did you not see his arm?"

"I could care less about his arm, Harry."

"Are you serious?" he reiterated the same words in a different connotation. "He has the mark, Hermione. You can't stand there and tell me that you didn't at least see something on his arm."

"It could have been anything."

Why was she trying to find justification for him having the black ink in the first place?"

While Hermione did break away from the oath that she gave to the silence, Harry couldn't help feel that there was a darker meaning to her reasons to protect Malfoy and that she should tread carefully lest she find herself in a pit that should would be unable to crawl out of.

They walked in silence. Neither of them spoke even when they reached the tall doors of the Great Hall and sat down at their usual place at the Gryffindor table. As they tucked into a quick breakfast, piling their plates as high as they possibly could without finding sickening pleasure from what they were about to eat, the doors opened once again and in strolled Malfoy accompanied by Snape. He was dragging him by the sleeve of his robes, a scowl placed strategically on both their faces. They had been fighting, Harry knew. Otherwise they wouldn't be sporting small traces of bruises and cuts along their necks and hands.

"Must've caught him in the act," murmured Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, shush."

"Still denying what's right in front of you?"

"I'm not denying anything," she hissed. "I should be saying that to you!"

"Why is that?"

"You're obsessed, Harry." She breathed, watching as Malfoy was dragged further into the Hall and broke free from Snape's hold. Straightening his robes, he marched over to the Slytherin table to sat down in the middle of Zabini and Nott. Neither of them dared speak to him. "It's unhealthy."

"So is your relationship with this mysterious lover."

"Wh-what?!" she whipped around and gazed urgently into his eyes.

He did not falter.

"Something is going on with you as well, Hermione. God forbid you deny that, too."

"I-I-I'm not denying anything!" she confessed. "And, I do not have a lover! M-merely an _epistoler_ , is all." "Whoever it is, you're in way too deep." Hermione bit her lip. Who was to say if she was in too deep, too involved with someone who may in return come to be the most influential person that has crossed her path? She was as sure as hell not going to deny that, if anything. It was her most treasured secret.

When her gaze turned to Malfoy, she couldn't help hear a calling that was true to one of her own. If he was keeping a secret just as she was, who was to say he couldn't protect it? Even if that secret wasn't all too good, it was worth shielding it from everyone else.

Of course, it was this type of reckless thoughts that was the most confining.

* * *

A/N: I am so terribly sorry for the delay y'all! D: I just started the semester and I was trying to get a feel for it. I have so much work to do this semester that it just isn't funny. 19 chapters! 6 of which are review for the floor. One thing is for certain, I will definitely go through the book a billion times before I go to State Board.

I'm taking Skin Care and Nails this semester. I know some asked in a review for Beauty is Beast. He/She left a lovely review, too. T.T why were you a guest?

I do have some exciting news :) My brother is going to propose to his girlfriend soon. Exciting, I know. Heartbreaking as well. I'm so so happy for him. And also so sad because my brother will have to move with her some time next summer.

Other than my petty excuses and that, there really isn't anything else going on. I do plan on updating on Tuesday again. I hope y'all know what might happen. ;) Draco has something up is sleeve. Lol.

See you soon!

Updated/edited version will come tomorrow :)

-Carolare Scarletus


	5. Lies to Truth

_.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter Four_

 _Lies to Truth_

 _.~._

* * *

~*- Heed to the perfect warning lest you find something amiss-*~

* * *

"Sit and remain silent," hissed Professor Snape as he strolled in after his students, making a scene of arousing the lights and swishing his wand about him. His robed billowed threateningly behind him and as he made his way up to the front of the classroom, he surveyed the damage and let out a unheard groan of disappointment and dejection. He had hoped that his class would be limited, but seeing as many of them had progressed due to the handlings of their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, he had no choice but to acknowledge them. He turned on his heels and said in a low, demur voice," I have not asked any of you to take out your textbooks. Put them away."

The classroom was riddled with dankness and dread. Even as the queue clamored in, they could sense the dilapidated ruins that used to be so alive with wonder and curiosity. Trophies of contorted body pieces and jars of shrunken heads littered the grand bookshelves. The students grimaced at a particularly horrid item as it flash them a sullen grin and went completely still. As they took their seats, a great many of them couldn't help let their thoughts run from them. They were in for a rude awakening, indeed, and it was only amplified the crossed nature of their Professor. He was going to enjoy immensely, even more so since he had gotten his wish after so many years of waiting.

He watched with ease as his students took their seats and became accustomed to the intoned nature of his practice. Unlike Potions, DADA was in a league of its own. It was hands on and intense, not saying that brewing potions and weighing dragon dung wasn't, but no one has been able to win against an opponent by shouting out ingredients for a Polyjuice Potion. Everything relied on skill and agility.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was entirely different now that Professor Snape had taken over. His taste was still rather detestable. He had bathed the classroom with every bit of cruel images and souvenirs that he could find. Somehow he even managed to bring the dank coldness along with him from the dungeons. One wouldn't think of a single happy thought in a place like this, no matter how endearing their spirits tried to sound. There was only one thing to count on and that was they were in for a rude awakening and their toughest year yet.

Draco had taken a seat with Theo and Blaise, neither of them had been foolish enough to be over enthusiastic about their first real lesson with the ex-Potion's Master. The three Slytherins looked at the head of their house coolly and said nothing.

He could feel the penetrating gaze of Potter. It was no surprise to him that he opted to find a seat in the back of the classroom. Harry had taken a seat a few rows behind them. It was a rather odd scenario since Hermione usually forced them to sit in the front. For some reason, he believed that she wouldn't mind sitting in the back of the room where the whole room was set up to their advances. After what he let him see, or rather what he happened to stumble upon, he wasn't surprised at all by his willingness to think the worst of him. He had yet to see the worst, however, and only served to his more sadistic nature to show him exactly that. Of course, his Godfather had been all too willing to accommodate him. He obliged to his little idea in a great attempt to see the insufferable know-it-all crumble beneath the weight of his authority. Even so, Draco knew he only agreed because of the mark that scared their arms. Otherwise, he would have dismissed him altogether.

Fortunately for him, he was at an advantage. He only needed to rile the Gryffindor up and he knew exactly how to do it.

His thoughts pulled away from him. As he did, he remembered the scene in which he would not soon forget.

Twice she has seen her. Twice she has not paid the least bit of attention to him. He remained standing there, caught between walking forward and joining her and staying where he was. It was a bit of a conundrum, but he chose the ladder. He didn't want to rouse her yet. Her fucking mood swings wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

Draco was waiting in a niche, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to show up. When they did, he conversed with them until a familiar scent wafted around him. When he looked up, he had got just the end of a long main of curly brown hair and the unmistakable outline of red. He was certain that the little witch had seen him, otherwise she wouldn't have been with Potter and she wouldn't have given them a questionable look at breakfast that morning. Draco heart came to a sudden halt. He knew that he would find her, clenching her blasted books, looking winded as if she rode a fucking Hippogriff to class. A part of him called her out on her phobia of heights. Another wanted to curse her. Curse her because she saw, and call her out just to be a prick.

Before class, he had watched her as she ran pasted him. Hermione was in high spirits. As she scurried down the corridor, her hands clenched around her textbook for Ancient Runes and the three pieces of parchment that she had apparently been working on during break, she couldn't help but beam energetically. She had just received a letter for Slughorn's party and she couldn't wait to speak to Potter and Weasley about it. He knew all this because the witch was just so easily readable. He drew back into the darkness, but kept a careful eye on her.

Suddenly, she had stopped.

In her excitement, she had automatically thought of Ron. He knew. It's been almost two weeks since she's talked to him and they had yet to reconcile. A part of her wanted to go to him and apologize, but another, the more unforgiving part, wanted to let him suffer. He knew that as the one and only truth. Slightly dejected, she bit her lip and continued to walk. She didn't think of what happened to them until now. Even to her it seemed like some silly dream. To be perfectly honest, she thought it was. Ron never used to cater to other people's needs, so why should he start now?

 _A boy like that isn't worth your time._

A male voice spoke to from her subconscious. It caught her completely by surprise that she stumbled, dropped her books and looked around. She quickly bent to pick them up, completely embarrassed and hurried away from disapproving eyes.

Hermione never actually put a voice to the sender of the letters. The one she heard was dark, forbidden. As if rising from the ground itself to haunt her. It does. It haunted her. Even in her dreams she couldn't escape him, her faceless admirer. She's never heard or seen him; she suspected that he was rather handsome, even if his handwriting was the only physical attribute that she had to go by. Apart from that, she had nothing.

That wasn't necessarily true.

She did have something. Though it was enough, she couldn't help ask for more. Whoever was sending the letters was so sweet, so insightful. They made her think, ponder, and aspire to be greater. Hermione never thought about it before, but maybe she was a pushover. That people only used her for her mind and went to her when they couldn't find the answer to even the simplest of problems. Why did she have to be the first and only resort? How was it that, after all this time, they were finally noticing her? She didn't understand, and maybe she never would.

 _A bird like you must feel some sort of passion in wanting to fly free. Otherwise, you would be content where you are at._

Hermione's fingers wrapped around her books again and she slowed her pace until she was barely walking. Without wanting to acknowledge what the words could possibly mean, she quickened her pace and joined her classmates in front of their classroom.

The scene ended there. He let the image drive him, though. The image of her walking aimlessly in front of him became the catalyst for his desire to destroy her and break her down. She had witnessed him at his worse time, but in that retrospect, she was going to see him at his best.

She knew nothing of what she was getting into. Whether she had seen it or not, he was determined to keep her from finding out. Even if she never found out about the letters and who was sending them, he didn't want the witch to discover who he is, what he was. His plans did not include her and he would be damned if he allowed someone to harm her because of his stupidity.

He entered the classroom after that.

To his left, he could see Zabini and Nott conversing under their breaths. Nott sensed a disturbance, looked up and smiled. Of course the little bastard had a grin plastered on his face, reminding him of their little talk earlier that morning. The statement did stand. He really was hoping to present his mother with new mantle pieces.

"Alright there, Malfoy?" asked Nott. "Looking a little pale."

"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood."

"You never are." He pouted like a child. "You used to be so willing…"

Draco practically growled. "So help me, Nott. Say one more bloody word and I'll-"

Nott waved his hand dismissively and as always, Zabini stepped between them as a peaceful citizen between the two rivaling lands. Draco scooted over, allowing him to sit between them. Usually, he was in the middle but not in this case. He was still pissed.

"Enough," he sighed, sitting down. "You two can't go one day without tearing at each other's throats. How many times have I acted as peacemaker?"

"Higher than I can count," murmured Nott, thoughtfully. "How many people have we lost?"

"Quite a few," murmured the Italian. "Do you have any idea what our lesson will be on?"

Before either of them could indulge the observations of their fellow Housemate, the door to the classroom slammed shut and Snape strutted into the room. The silence was deadly, and neither of the three Slytherins were up for conversing as they watched the Head of their House walk around in completely driftlessness. His robes billowed in the godless wind and his lanky hair hung like heavy curtains on the sides of his face. There was an extraordinary glint of evil in his eyes. He stopped and looked around.

"Today, "Snape's voice echoed naturally in the over-sized classroom," we are going to attempt to hone the skills of nonverbal spells."

He walked leisurely in front of the tables. His black eyes scanned their faces. "Many of you don't have sufficient enough knowledge of nonverbal. I suggest that you all open your ears and pay attention lest you miss something important." Snape paced in front of them. "As you all may or may not be aware, the Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is tantamount to fighting a multiple headed monster. With each swing of a sword or well-placed spell, the neck is severed and gives births to a head cleverer and fiercer that before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible." He said the last words as if it were a prayer. "Therefore, your defenses must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo."

His drawl was incredibly boring. Some clung onto his words for all they were worth. Others, like Draco, were bored beyond comparison. He leaned back in his chair and began to scribble worthless words onto a spare piece of parchment. One word led to a sentence and those sentences lead to several inches worth of thoughts. He read it over.

Snape stepped around the edge of the room and indicated to each of the pictures tapered to his walls. One depicted an even more gruesome act of violence and leverage on decadent agony. A man, for example, lay sprawled on the floor, clearly in the throes of being under the influence of the Cruciartus Curse. Another depicted a many huddled in fear against a wall, his eyes black-eyed- a clear indication of the Dementor's Kiss. The last, the most gruesome, was a bloody mass on the ground- invoke the aggression of the Inferius.

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape. "You will be well advised to assume he might use them again."

He flashed a look at Draco and he turned his head and looked away. The last thing he needed was for the Potion's Master was to remind him of his cause. He remained silent, refusing to meet his eye. He was still angry with him. He knew he wasn't supposed to engage anyone about his task, but how the hell was he supposed to do it? He hardly knew what to do with Granger, not to mention with the Dark Lord's task. He needed that bloody room, and he was relying on the alignments of the fucking stars and planets that this lesson went exactly to plan. As a man of great opportunity, Draco would no doubt be able to make the most of the bad situation. If Snape helped him with this, he would be one step close to finding the Room of Requirement and open step closer to fixing the cabinet. He just needed Granger to cooperate…

"Now..."

The class watched as he made his way swiftly to the other side of the room and back to his desk.

"…you all will divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Be warned, if I hear one whisper of a word, both partners will find themselves in detention before either can reflect my hex. I have assigned partners for several of you. Those names I call, step forward. The rest, you may begin."

As the students stood and shuffled about the room. Draco watched as Blaise and Theo stood, oblivious to the fact that he had tempted Snape into doing this experimentation with the students. While Snape began to call several names, he leaned back in his chair and waited. His name was last to be called along with Hermione's. When he did, he couldn't hide the smirk that spread across his face. He turned, watching as the witch behind him face paled at hearing who her opponent would be. At least he gave her the advantage of being the castor. This was going to be so much fun.

Hermione trembled slightly as she stood from her seat, eyeing Harry and Ron, both looking at her with concern. Harry had mouthed something to her to which she caught on instantly. Despite what they saw earlier, she couldn't help feel the need to remain calm and careful around the Slytherin. She walked over to where he stood with his arms drawn over his chest, daring not to speak even when he greeted her.

"Granger," his smirk grew. "I can't say that I am pleased that you're my partner but I guess you'll do."

"Malfoy," her voice was tight. He supposed that she hadn't forgiven him for when he made her lose those house points. Oh, well. He had far bigger plans. "Let's just get this over with."

"As you wish," he smirked, watching her as she drew her wand and readied herself for attack. "Do take care of me. You see, I bruise fairly easily."

"I'll do just more than bruise you, Malfoy. I can assure you…" she raised her wand, ready to execute the extent of her words.

"Ah," he raised his hand and wagged his finger. A smirk came to his lips, "No talking. I can see that this is going to be quite hard for you but I will not allow you to get me into trouble because you can't keep that big mouth of yours shut."

Hermione's eyes flashed the unmistakable hue of unadulterated rage. With a quieting gulp, she bit back any retort that sprung to her lips, furrowed her brow, and began concentrating on the first jinx that came to mind. She did look quite beautiful in her relief. Just the simple act of thinking and trying to project her magic stirred him like nothing else has.

He wasn't at all worried. Although they were sixth years, Snape would never allow the harm of another student, even him. He had to keep a special eye on him, anyway, and Granger would no doubt be the receiver of his jinx if something did happen to him.

Hermione began to move, pointing her wand right at his chest. Her eyes were set. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. She was concentrating. In her mind, a simple decadent charm came alive. Just as she was about to flick her wrist, he decided to intervene, taking his words right with him.

"Not so full of words now, are you Granger?" he seethed. "Not without your precious words to back you up. Merlin, I never thought I would live to see the day that you weren't jumping up and down like a frog, desperate to answer a question."

He swore that her magic was transpiring against her. She wanted so desperately to hex him, so she continued to concentrate on the jinx that he knew she wished to evoke but couldn't. Even in the most strenuous situations, the great Granger couldn't perform well to the expectations set out for her. Snape made his way around the groups. In the corner of the room, Draco could see Zabini and Nott. They were arguing, of course. They both were betting Galleons when Granger would explode. From what he could tell, Zabini bet she lost it first. Not disagreed. He believed that she would be able to at least make it to the end of class. Draco knew one thing and that was he was going to prove them both wrong.

"It's a complete shame you aren't able to," he drawled. "Merlin knows that-"

"Shut up," she hissed finally, under her breath.

A smile danced across his lips.

"What did you say?"

"I said shut up." The witch glared at him, reiterating what she had said. "I've had enough of you."

"Oh, you have?"

"Yes," she emphasized the words by gripping her wand more tightly. "Out of all the boys in this class, I had to be saddled with you. And, just in case you've suddenly became deaf in the last fifteen seconds, I would appreciate it if _you_ stopped talking. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Proceed, then." He chuckled. "But, I must warn you. Speak again and I'll inform Snape. I don't want to fail because of you."

Hermione was about to say something but Draco held up a hand.

"No talking," he warned. "Wouldn't want the precious little Princess will get a detention and have it placed on her record now would we?

Another burst of fire flared within her eyes and he knew that she was fighting every which way to remain silent. It there was one certain thing it would be to take Snape very seriously. He gave detentions out like it was Halloween and Christmas, gifting them as treats and presents at his leisure. He abused his power of authority and he didn't care who he harmed in the process. All he cared about was himself.

Draco's eyes darted around the room. Longbottom was the first to grace him. His trembling form almost made him chuckle, which would have caused him to lose his directive. He was struggling. His partner was no better. He watched quietly as Snape came by them and hissed something under his breath. Longbottom became bright red and his nerves were shot to such extremities that he unconsciously spat out the charm, having pointed his wand off his target. A flash of light dance across the room and ricocheted off the wall behind his opponent. Snape gave him the first detention that he suspected would be many.

The Slytherin turned back and smirked.

"Looks like Longbottom bested you at something, Granger." He said. "He just got detention before you. How do you feel about that?"

Her eyes screamed what her voice could not.

Smirking, he placed his hands in his pockets, along with his wand. He appeared relaxed and trivial with his environment. He wanted her to see that he didn't have a care in the world. Giddy with the prospects of humiliating her, Draco began to rock back and forth on his heels, watching her face carefully.

He knew that it was hurting her. The fact that she had yet to jinx him was eating her raw on the inside and the only thing she could account for was trying her patience. She wanted to throw every jinx and hex and hurtle it at him one by stinking one until there was nothing left but a convulsing hump of flesh. Oh, what a sight that would be, but he preferred his woman on in his chambers and on his bed when they convulsed. It was cleaner that way, he supposed. More erotic.

A sudden thought came to him but he was quick to determinate it. He would not think of Granger in such a way, not matter what he felt for the witch. She could not be his in that way, so he settled for a life of teasing and tormenting her from afar.

"How does it feel?" he continued, eyeing her," to be second best at something as easy as casting a non-verbal jinx. Must be frustrating, yeah?"

Hermione made a sound in the back of her throat that indicated her detest.

"Cat got your tongue, hmm?" he purred triumphantly. "Still trying to concentrate? Try hard enough and you'll either blow of a vessel or worse. Whatever you do, though, make sure you don't get it on my shoes. They're new."

"I don't care about your bloody shoes," she hissed, the wall of her patience and dignity crumbling as she spoke. A smirk slowly took shape on his lips just as Snape was strolling toward them. He didn't say a word. "Why I was chosen to be your partner, I'll never know. But, I won't allow you to continue to deride me." In a split second decision, she raised her wand and cried," _Stupefy_!"

Draco instantly grabbed for his wand and repelled the approaching offense. When he did, the witch looked at him, startled. Completely stunned and speechless, she lowered her wand and glared angrily at him.

"Been practicing, have you?" she seethed. "Think this is funny?"

He resisted the urge to nod. Indeed, he found it funny. Quite amusing, really. The sheer astonishment was photo-worthy. What came next was only the icing on the cake.

"Practice has nothing to do with it, Granger." He whispered to her, knowing that they were just in ear-shot of Snape. "If I were you, I would keep that big mouth of yours shut. We're supposed to be doing this in silence."

"Why you…" she breathed hauntingly. "I'm going to get you for this."

"I'm sure you are," he chuckled. "Now, continue. I haven't got all day."

She was about to try again, then she turned. As soon as she saw that Snape wasn't looking in their direction, she turned back around, aimed her wand at Malfoy's chest, and whispered in a faint voice," _Cantis_ ," hoping that the jinx would take.

And, it did.

No more than three seconds passed before Malfoy was forced to sing. For someone so unbelievable malice and cruel, his voice was extraordinarily beautiful. Deep and rich like the most expensive chocolate, he sung in perfect harmony to a tuneless melody. A more sinister part of her wanted to cast another jinx, but she feared that his dancing abilities would be too much. The bastard probably studied ballet and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand the sight of him twirling around the classroom on the tips of his toes. A sight worth-while, but it wouldn't have conjured the exact humiliation she was looking for. She needed something wicked.

Malfoy suddenly stopped and he opened his eyes, seething at her for casting that particular jinx. She smirked at him and he was momentarily without oxygen.

Damn.

She was good.

"Granger," came the drawl of their Professor.

Gasping, she turned and looked at him with worried eyes. In her haste to get back at the git, she had forgotten that Snape's earing was perfect for someone his age. The dark presence swept between them and she fumbled for words. "Professor, I-"

"I do not want to hear your excuses, Miss Granger." He narrowed his eyes, his lip curling. He appeared to have been waiting years to give her what she rightfully deserved. "May I ask you why you casted that jinx when I explicitly told the entire class not to make a single noise."

"I…H-he provoked me, sir.

"I don't care if a group of centaurs galloped into this room." He hissed. "No one was to make a sound during this lesson. You have failed to listen to instructions. You will serve your detention tomorrow night in the dungeons along with Malfoy since he is incapable of keeping his mouth shut as well. Provoking your opponent is not appropriate when you are just learning to perform non-verbal spells. Do I make myself clear?"

Neither of them said a word, which he took it as they understood. With a swish of his robes, he was gone. He drifted away to antagonize other students.

Only a selected few gave her their condolences, anyway.

Hermione slowly turned and faced Draco. He looked at her innocently. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

Tears began to swell in the corners of her eyes. "You taunted me knowing full well that Snape could pass by at any time. I told you to stop, yet you continued!"

Draco frowned, obvious to the fact that he indeed set her up. She would never know that, of course. "Will you calm down, Granger? It's just detention. I used to get them all the time. It's no big deal."

"No big deal," she breathed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "No big deal? Are you pulling my leg, Malfoy? It is a big deal to me!" She paused long enough to take a shuddering breath. "I've never had detention, you git! I hope you're happy!"

Oh, yes. He should have been happy.

But, why did he feel so guilty?

* * *

"Out of all the barbaric individuals, Snape just had to put Malfoy with me!" she cried, dropping her books onto the table in the Common Room and huffing. "And, that wasn't the worst of it, Harry. He forced me to break my concentration and explode! He is the reason that I have detention with Snape on Saturday! If it wasn't for him…" she wrung her robes and growled. "I swear I'm going to kill the git when I see him."

The three of them were in the Gryffindor Common Room. After a long day of classes, they decided to convene together at the tower before supper. They had just arrived when she began to throw out every obscenity that she could think of that perfectly illustrated Malfoy's personal concern or lack thereof. He was the most selfish person she has ever come to know, and if it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't have detention. And, on a Saturday night! For some strange reason, Ron decided to comfort her and she openly accepted it. Perhaps, she thought, he was sympathizing with her because of how wronged Malfoy had treated her all these years. She hoped it was because it was the right thing to do, and not because it was chivalrous. Only time would tell.

Hermione dropped into a cushioned seat beside the fire and sighed. She didn't want to think about the impending detention or what she may have to do for the conspiring Master. For now, as resigned as she was to throw all her hatred at the two of them, she wanted to rid herself of every piece of memory that still lingered in her mind.

"He knew exactly what he was doing." She said softly, drying her tears. She had fled the classroom as soon as the bell sounded and was reaping the repercussions of crying. Her eyes were red and it stung when she blinked. "He knew what buttons to press and how to press them. It's like he was asking to be put into detention with me…"

Her eyes widened.

"D'you really think that was his motive?" Harry asked. "Malfoy is a lot of things, but I don't think he would deliberately get himself into trouble and drag you along with him. You aren't exactly his favorite person, 'MIone."

"The evil git probably thought it would be a good chance to rile you up some more." Said Ron, thoughtfully.

The two of them turned and blinked.

"What?" he asked, heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn't said a single word to either of them, much less Hermione. This was the first time in ages that he was paying any attention to her. "I mean, there is only so much he can do in front of Snape, yeah? He might've wanted to get you alone and interrogate you some more. I can't think of any reason he would want to, though…"

Harry remained silent as did Hermione. After some time, he broke the silence.

"The Mark." he said suddenly.

"The Mark?" asked Ron.

He nodded. "We were in the library this morning- don't ask," he hissed, noticing the inquisitive glint in his best mate's eyes," We were coming down for breakfast when we saw Malfoy talking to Crabbe and Goyle. He said some stuff and pulled up his sleeve. We left before either of them had the chance to notice us. When we arrived to the Great Hall, Malfoy and Snape came in after us looking as if they had gotten into some sort of argument or brawl. I'm not certain, but I think it has something to do with Voldemort."

"Don't say his name." hissed Ron, covering his ears. "I'm bloody tired of you saying his name!"

"It's his name, isn't?" he shot back, angry. "It's not my fault you can't tolerate hearing it, Ron. Anyway, I reckon he's looking for something. At the very least, desperate for help. Snape can only help so much, right? So, we does he have to turn to- Crabbe and Goyle."

"What about Nott and Zabini?" asked Hermione warily.

It was clear that Harry never considered either of them. He processed it for a few minutes before saying," They have only themselves to worry about."

"Aren't all their parents Deatheaters, though? Why wouldn't he go to Nott and Zabini first before going to Crabbe and Goyle?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "They didn't take the Mark like Nott and Zabini did."

"If they didn't take it," enquired Hermione slowly," how is it possible that they are able to help him? I don't understand."

He shook his head, rose to his feet and began to pace. It was like he was waiting for this exact moment to express his theories, to grabbed the light and shine it down upon Malfoy and single him out. Of all his offenses, serving Voldemort and doing as he wished had to top it all. Nott and Zabini had to know what he was up to and had to have their own duties and taken the Mark alongside him. Otherwise, they would be the ones to help him. No one would suspect Crabbe or Goyle, which made it the perfect excuse for Malfoy. They always followed in his command and he always sat back and watched them.

"If that's true," said Ron after some time. "What is he looking for?"

Unfortunately, Harry did not know the answer.


	6. Night of Revelations

_As always, enjoy_

 ** _A/N down below_**

* * *

 _.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter Five_

 _Night of Revelations_

 _.~._

* * *

~*-Some things are better left unspoken -*~

* * *

 **Saturday September 14** **th** **, 1996**

Hermione stood in front of the looming door with trepidation. Her hands were clenched to her sides and there was an uncharacteristic shutter that ran through her as she gazed up at the familiar panels and surrounding portraits. A chilling gale of air swept past her and she had the sense that someone may very well be watching her. She stood there, though. Her eyes widening, her breath coming out shallowly as she tried to process the small string of events that led up to this moment.

Detention.

She had spent the last day trying to digest such a word. Almost bounded by her nature, she had the audacity to look it up in a dictionary during her recess time in the library. Of course, the action of detainment hardly seemed fitting. More like wrongly accused by a culprit who justly deserved the same harsh treatment as she found herself in and forced to comply with the demands of one snarky ex-Potion's Professor inside some dank torture chamber. She nearly fainted right then and there just thinking about what the Head of the House would do. Perhaps, make them clean cauldrons with their bare hands until their arms fell of? She wouldn't get it passed him, of course. He was infamous for his punishments.

The witch huffed in aggravation. Placing her hands on her hips, she began to weigh the scales of what she remembered and what she had to pull out of Harry and Ron.

Evidently, there was something missing. What she remembered compared to those who so kindly whispered behind her back were two separate things. From what she was able to pull from their taunts, she came to realize the chain was blotchy in some places and she had to resort to asking Harry and Ron what had occurred.

"You don't remember?" asked Harry incredulously.

When she shook her head at his question, the wizard sighed and ran his finger through his hair.

"Yeah, you tried to jinx him and you didn't even attempt to keep your emotions out of it. To say the least, if it hadn't been for Snape, you would've really did some damage."

He then went into great detail as to what she did. Apparently, forcing Malfoy to sing wasn't the least of what she did. She also threw in several stunning spells, leg and arm binding charms and a jinx that would have forced Malfoy's tongue to be glued to the roof of his mouth. If it had not been for Neville, bless his soul, he would've gotten hit. Neville was still in the hospital wing, paying testament to just how powerful the cast had been. She didn't think she would be able to apologize enough to the Gryffindor. Despite her reservations, he had accepted it and they both moved on from the ordeal.

Hermione rocked back and forth on her feet, biting her lip. Thought he had forgiven her, it wasn't what happened to him that plagued her thoughts. It was the fact that Malfoy had taunted her to the point of blind rage and caused the particular scene to be completely blackened from her memory. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember what happened and had only Harry's account to work with. It was entirely maddening to think that Malfoy had such an incredibly persuasive voice that it tampered with her ability to retain information and events. She couldn't remember for the life of her and it was driving her absolutely insane.

She back away from the doors and let out an aggravated growl, the sort of growl that would issue from a submissive pup in front of its pack leader. She was angry and she couldn't wait to get back at Malfoy for what he did. Sure, she should be concerned if that was his initiative, but she couldn't help let the feeling wash over and fester inside of her like an untrained lion. Oh, yes. She was a lioness and she was ready to be set loose.

She had spent the better part of the day trying to find understanding in something that should be so obvious. After joining the boys at the Quidditch pitch and witnessing one of the worst tryouts that she would ever care to attend, she had put more thought into the entire situation and theory. She had gone as far as staging Ron's acceptance onto the team by whispering a _confundus_ charm to throw McLaggen off his game. Ron didn't know, but Harry had made it a point that he knew earlier at supper.

"I won't pretend as to why you did it," he told her," but I would be careful if I were you."

"Why is that?"

He didn't reply and it made Hermione wonder what was going through his mind even then.

The witch pushed the conversation to the back of her head.

For now, revenge.

Later interrogation.

Looking down the dark aisle, she spotted the Slytherin as he made his way quietly toward her. He must have gone on a walk somewhere. Knowing him, to shag some poor girl and leave them to defend themselves as a result. Frowning, she stepped aside, silently indicating to him that he would be the one to knock on the door. After all, he had been the one to get them into trouble. He should have the pleasure of notifying their executioner.

"Gave me the curtesy of knocking, Granger?"

She didn't speak.

"Not talking to me?" he arched a brow, his lips curling. He was quick to rectify the amusing expression. "I thought you would be thanking me for placing you into detention. After all, the first time is always the most exciting."

"I am not speaking to you," she hissed through her teeth. "I don't care if you got me so mad to the point that I blacked out and hurtled every jinx and hex that I knew, you tricked me. Plain and simple."

"There wasn't much tricking involved. You just were disciplined enough to ignore it."

"What do you mean?"

Suddenly, the doors to the Dungeons and out stepped the Potion's master in his usual air of domineering evasion. He looked slowly between the two and ushered them in. Hermione went first, followed closely by Malfoy and Professor Snape. Once they were all inside, he swept past the two students, turned on his heel, and acknowledged them.

"You may be wondering why I brought you to the dungeons," he proposed," It is under the impression that your curiosity has been the better of you two for the last several hours and I'm here to assure you that it will be quenched in due time. Firstly, I would like to bring you up to speed…"

"There are several rare assortments still in my possession. I have planned to move them up to my new classroom. They are rare artifacts that I hope you two will be… cautious when handling them. I expect them all to be moved and delivered to the new classroom before midnight. You have four hours to accomplish it."

"All?" asked Malfoy, rising an eyebrow as he tried to process what Professor Snape said.

He turned to him. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, all." The dark wizard moved swiftly about the room, saying," I suspect that you two are quite capable of handling a couple of artifacts, even with the use of magic. As cruel as I am according to some, I do not find pleasure in abusing my students in such a way. You are permitted to use your wands, but if you see that you are up to some physical labor…"

"We accept the usage of wands, thank you, professor." Hermione said swiftly, expressing her gratitude.

Malfoy looked at her with mixed emotion. Clearly, he was pleased with the development. They learned something, however. When a snarky Potion's Master offers you an exchange or deal, you damn well better take it.

Snape's lip curled indistinguishably. "Very well, Miss Granger." He moved to his desk and picked something off of the well-organized desk and placed it inside of his robes. The two of them looked at him suspiciously but were quick to derail him with falsely projected looks.

He gave them a sided look in return.

"I shall be back soon. In the meantime, make yourselves useful." The old bat turned and glided over to the entrance to his lair before turning and saying,"Do be careful." A smirk stretched unnaturally across his face before he disappeared. The door closed behind him.

Malfoy moved away, Hermione following close by.

"Where are you going?"

The wizard didn't pay her the least bit of attention. Instead, he drifted away and into the deserted classroom until he reached the end. Frowning, Hermione took out her wand and casted a quick _lumos_ , to which laminated the great expanse of their journey. She figured he was trying to play innocent and in return leave all the heavy lifting up to her. Which, she thought with dignified reservation, she was not going to allow him to do. They were both thrown into this mess and they were both going to sort it out.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked again, this time stopping him from going any further. "We're supposed to be sorting out his artifacts. I hope you-"

"Shut up."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. What the hell did he just say?

"Excuse me?"

"I said shut up." Malfoy held up a hand to the wall and waited. "I know what he said, Granger. I'm not deaf, unlike you." He looked at the wall and gave a heavy groan. "It should be here."

"What should?"

"The entrance to his bloody storage room." He looked up and down the line of the wall. "This isn't my first detention with him, you know. I've had so many with him that I could draw you every nook and cranny with my eyes shut and my arms tide behind my back. The pray is a lunatic and if I remember correctly…" he pressed the palm of his hand against the wall a feet from where he had it and pushed forward."...it should be here. Ah." A loud, broken groan erupted and if felt like the earth was be split. The stone walls suddenly opened up for him and Hermione stood there flabbergasted as to what she was witnessing.

A large wooden door with intricate details emerged from the stone walls. As it came into shape, two identical silver fixtures drew themselves and gave them the light that they would need to perform their tasks.

Malfoy looked at the growing mass of shapes without a single thought. He had seen its formation before. It had been quite astonishing before, but by now it had lost its entire luster. The growing control of hues and shapes; oh, yes, he has seen it all and every moment its plentiful glory. As he stood there, his hand still on the wall, he looked over his shoulder to gauge Hermione's reaction. Astonished and anxious with wonder, as expected. He knew it would delight her. What she didn't know was what lied within.

He didn't know exactly what Snape wanted them to take up to the new classroom, but he had an idea. Out of all his treasures, there were a few that had caught his eye. Old, decrepit pieces that didn't move unless provoked; stationary accessories where all it took for it to attack was to hum the wrong tune; Draco wasn't at all a stranger to these artifacts; he had spent a great deal of time outside of school with his Godfather to know that all, if not most, of the artifacts he wanted them to move were cursed and that he had to ensure that Granger didn't discover that hidden truth. There were a few that he was itching to see again, like Mirror Transporter that send the observer to an alternate dimension. How Snape got a hold of half the shit he has in his storage room was beyond him; Draco couldn't wait to dump the garbage into the trash, which the old bat should have done ages ago. He suspected more than half of them were broken or had lost all its magic. Either way, he hadn't been impressed for years.

"Let me in!" she breathed, trying to push him aside.

He looked at her and said nothing as he let her pass. As she walked through the door, he kept a careful eye on her. She remained oblivious to the true nature of the exercise and what lurked in the Potions Master's abode. He only hoped that she would remain that way and not let her brain act as a catalyst to her downfall.

"Be careful," he warned her though. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"And you do?" she questioned. "I hardly believe it's anything too dangerous. You said so yourself, you've had so many detentions with Professor Snape that-"

"I know what I said," he said with an endearing sigh. "Now, come on. Like I said, I don't want to be here all night."

All night would be heavenly, he admitted. He has been dying to be in her proximity since being assigned detention. Granted her little stunt in class authorized harshness and brutality, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Especially not after witnessing her passion. Who know that Granger could be so raw and explosive? He wanted to see more.

Draco walked behind her. His eyes remained on the walls. While he paced around the small enclosure, his mind pulled away from him. Of course, he had nothing to fear.

Hermione immediately began shifting through the rubbage and assessing the treasures. Every little step she took, every little caress was dutifully noted by the Slytherin. She made particular attention to anything that looked as if it would blow away even in the slightest of wind. Her eyes sparkled, and the small unnoticeable dimple he didn't know existed emerged from the depth of her left cheek. She was in her domain and that was where she would remain until night ended and morning came to pass. Draco watched her in deep concentration. He has never seen anything like it. Like her, really.

He moved out of her way as she shuffled through several old boxes that occupied the right back section of the room. His grey eyes roamed over her for a minute. She was so used to the tight humidity offered by hours of grueling research. The library was her favorite sanctuary, after all. A place he infringed upon, he was now reaping the benefits of marking it with his sullied touch. He had scared her, threatened her. He wouldn't dare do it again. He needed her to be open to his advances, to trust him. How else would he be able to find the Room of Requirement if he couldn't at least have some of her trust?

Draco did his best to keep his distance, but even that proved to be a chore. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Even as he tried his best to look through the crates and debris, he felt his eyes drifting over to where she was. She ignored his looks. The room was incredibly tight and uncomfortable.

He looked over his shoulder again some time later to find the annoying little witch staring directly at him with a scowl on her face.

Draco frowned. "What?"

He half expected her to lunge at him or strike him but she didn't.

She remained silent and his frown deepened.

"Either spit it out or leave it and help me," he growled, forcing his way into the small crawl space and looking around. There were only a few items to transport. So, the sooner they started, the faster they could get done and leave. He did plan on trying to get some rest tonight. "You heard Snape. We don't have all night to sort these out and I would rather not come back and touch these things."

Silence prevailed between them and Draco almost had the nerve to hiss something very inappropriate at her when she finally found the courage to speak up.

"I want an apology." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. Malfoy noted the soft curve of her breasts as they pushed slightly upward.

Hmm, interesting.

Draco arched his brow. "An apology?"

"Yes, for what happened in class yesterday. I want an apology."

Oh, Jesus. She was barking up the wrong fucking tree. A permanent frown was etched into his face. As he gazed at the persistent little witch, he couldn't help feel some sort of amusement in the way she had her hands placed on her hips, the scowl on her face, and the deep impression on her forehead. She was like one of those Muggle characterchers with her wildly big head and small body….

…and beautiful skin and soft lips.

…curves that screamed to be touched.

He stopped there.

There was no need to hurt himself more with something he couldn't have or event touch. He would never be able to control himself around the Gryffindor and he didn't trust himself enough not to indulge in some sort of tempting taste. Teasing her was his specialty after all.

Instead, he looked at her with bored trepidation. He didn't want her to sense that he was taken aback by her admission. She wasn't going to win; she certainly was not going to get an apology from him. No matter how much her little heart was set on it, he was not going to submit to her. Ever.

"An apology, Granger?" he asked, turning around and stepping toward her. "Why in the world would I apologize to you?"

"Why wouldn't you?" she hissed just as nastily. "You only treated me like you always have. Like dirt. Now that someone has the nerve to stand up to you and ask for you to apologize for something you have done, you suddenly find yourself with cold feet.

He had to give it to her. She could be a little bitch when she wanted to. Draco didn't dwell on it too long before his attention was brought to something rattling inside the chambers the Potion's Master. He turned around quickly, catching whatever had caused the noise. Inside there held a small nest of what appeared to be medium sized rats with multi-colored pelts. Their large teeth glistened in the available light. Draco knew not to mess with them. A simple spell should be able to take care of the problem. Hermione looked appalled, pale even as she pushed him aside to get a better look at the artifacts. He frowned. The witch was quite strong. He would give her that. Wait until she looked deeper… then, she would have something to truly be afraid of.

"What is that?"

"A mutated rat. What the fuck do you think?" he hissed, agitated. "Come on, we better sort it out."

"Are they always here?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Do they always show up during the night? If so, you might want to ask Snape about it later. Maybe he'll indulge you for once."

"Why do you have to be so rude?" she asked, frowning. "I was only asking a question."

"Stop, then. I have no patience for your asinine questions." Draco grabbed for his wand, flicked it toward the nearest crates, and watched them soar into the air. "Ready?"

Begrudedly, the witch took out her wand and flicked it in the opposite direction. She followed quietly behind him as he lead the way to the classroom in which the crates would be relocated. They walked out of the Potion's classroom in silence. As they reached the end of the corridor, it became clear to Hermione that all he wanted to do was get down to business and not bring up previous offenses. They made a total of five trips up to the third floor and when they came back, they discovered there were only two small artifacts left. Exhausted and desperate for rest, they walked into the storage room where Hermione moved to examine them, but Draco stopped her.

"Don't touch those." He said.

"Why not?"

He looked at her silently for a second before drawing back to reality. "They are cursed."

Hermione took a minute to process what he said before asking," How do you know?"

"I just do," was his snarky reply before ordering her to secure the room. He would leave those two particular items to Snape's hand. For now, they would rest. "Come on, I'll order us some food."

"Why are you being so nice to me now?" she asked curiously. "You were being a prat earlier, so why the sudden change?"

"I can't be nice for once?" he hissed.

"That depends. Has Hell finally frozen over?"

"I don't know. You tell me." A grin spread across his face. The hold on her control snapped as a result.

"Why are you such an ass!" she hissed, jabbing her finger into his chest. He looked down and gave her a deathly glare. What was her fucking problem, anyway? They were both tired, in need of nourishment. Why couldn't she accept his offer of food and drink? He was only trying to make light of a situation that he landed them both in, so why was she acting like such a bitch? "Why do you have to be such a prat? Why can't you be civil with the people who you think are beneath you for once?"

The witch drew her wand and began poking him arbitrarily in the back as he turned away from her attacks. If he wasn't already frowning now, he would have been then. The creases on his forehead deepened and he was afraid that it was going to leave permanent marks. Draco turned around just as she jabbed him again in the chest. He caught her wand, gripping it hard and pulling it away from her.

He was seething with rage.

"It looks like I'm not going to be able to trust you with this," he held the wand up and arched an eyebrow. Hermione looked up and glared at him. The girl was going to be the death of him. "Do I have to confiscate it for the remainder of the night? Want to leave the rest of the work to me, huh?"

"Give me back my wand!"

"What is your problem, Granger?" he growled. "Can't we just get along for one night?"

"You've had your chance years ago. Now, either give me back my wand or I'll do something drastic!"

"Like what?"

"Like this!" before he had time to react, the witch drove her foot right into his lower leg, enabling him completely motionless for several seconds. Hermione quickly caught her wand, pushed him aside and ran away, leaving Draco to reap the repercussions by messing with her.

Hermione ran out of the storage room and back into the classroom where she huddled by the hearth. Hermione sat down, rubbing her hands together as if to rid herself of the cold that never came. She was pissed, that was obvious. Draco followed after her. She heard him curse but didn't dare to look back. Instead, she kept running. She ran all the way to the entrance to the classroom when she heard Draco come out of the storage room and round behind her, hot on her trail. Though only hesitating for a moment, he was able to catch up to her and encircle his arms around her waist. She clawed at him. She would have bitten him too if it was undignified for a girl of her upbringing to do such a thing.

Draco grabbed both her wrists and hauled her away from the door. While she protested and kicked with all her might, he couldn't help admire they was she had exploded. He would have apologized for what he did eventually. It seemed that the eventually part had found him quicker than he anticipated. Instead of forming the words that may have calmed the witch, he chose to do something more drastic than kicking her in the shins.

He kissed her.

Her lips remained unmoving as he swept his tongue across her lips, asking for entrance to which she granted. Tentatively, she opened her mouth but only slightly, but it was enough for him to deepen the kiss. He dropped his hands form her wrists, her wand falling to the ground as well and brought them both up to her head. They caressed the smooth skin of her cheeks. His body pressed closely against hers. As he tilted his head to the left and right, bringing her bottom out and dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, he felt her hands move up to his biceps. He let out a growl. She was trying her best to imitate his ministrations. What a student she would be for him. If only it could be…

Draco pulled away slowly. Before he did, he gave her one last lingering kiss before looking down at her with burning eyes. She shook slightly. He knew that he had drove into her something monumental. It was something that neither of them would forget.

"I'm trying." He told her, trying to hide the desperate tone of his voice. "I'm trying to be civil with you." He bit out harshly. "You're not making it easy."

"Try harder…" she sniffed, pushing him off her of her and moving to her hearth. She fell to the ground, removing her robes and throwing them onto the floor near her. She huddled closer to the fire and exhaled.

Draco stiffened.

Was she crying? He immediately looked at her face to find it slightly red, her eyes on the verge of exploding with repressed emotion. If he didn't act fast, he would have a crying witch in the same room as him and no way of fixing her. He was never good at providing the necessary support to any girl. He wouldn't know where to start.

He stood there for a few endearing minutes. Torn between comforting her and letting her cry until she exhausted herself, he didn't know what to do.

"Cease your crying." He said stupidly, which only made the witch cry harder in silence.

"I-I'm n-not crying!" she insisted stubbornly.

"Don't give me that shit, Granger." said Draco. "I know when a witch is crying. You look like you fell into the Black Lake. Your mascara is running."

She mumbled something along the lines of 'I'm not wearing any'. It was hard to distinguish the words between her sobs.

Draco stood there, debating whether or not to go and sooth the girl. If he did, she may find out. If he didn't, she would continue to call him names that unfortunately suited him just fine. Either way, he was fucked. Just as he was about to move, Hermione looked over her shoulder. He gulped. She really was crying and she was graceful in the act. And, she was right. She wasn't wearing any mascara or makeup at all.

She was stunning in her lowest. Maybe that was the reason behind his torment. He liked to see her bewildered, broken and sad. He has always been able to break down her little walls and she always proved to him that not even he could destroy her completely. She was very resilient. She has always been able to pull herself right again and fairly quickly too.

Decidedly, he sat down next to her without breathing so much as a word. He crossed his legs like a child waiting to be punished. None came.

"I don't understand," she finally said.

He looked at her. She had drawn her legs up to her chest, her arms thrown around them protectively. His eyes flickered to hers. They were red and swollen. She had finally stopped crying.

"Understand what?"

"You're such a prat." she sniffed. "…such a ferret."

She continued to mutter a string of offensive things under her breath, thing that paled in comparison to what he has said over the years. If it would make her feel remotely better, then he would allow it. For once in his miserable existence, he took the harsh words to heart and didn't refute them. He couldn't even if he tried.

Her words struck deep. It was probably only after she stopped talking that he was able to let them settle and digest everything that she said.

Why _was_ he such a prat? He couldn't answer that. He supposed it was because of his upbringing. His parents instilled into him the dangers of mixing with Muggles and Mudbloods that it became something like second nature to him. As a child, he didn't think much of distinguishing the bad from the good, the brilliant from the insubordinate, or the kind and the generously evil. He was only following in his parent's footsteps and only wished to please them as their only child. Much like many Pureblood children, he was only trying to gain their favor.

"I still haven't apologized to you," he said out of nowhere.

"What difference would that do?" she marked. "You wouldn't have anyway."

"How do you know I'm not sorry?" he pressed. "Even someone as vile as me can feel compassion, Granger. We're not all monsters."

"You sure act like one."

"You're acting like a bitch." said Draco. "Can't you just accept it so we can move on? You're driving me absolutely insane. No wonder no one wants to be anywhere near you."

Hermione whipped her head around and blinked her eyes. They held such promise before flickering into near extinction. She suddenly lost the strength to fight.

"It's nice to know what you really think of me, Malfoy." She turned back around and stared into the fire.

Draco's heart thrummed wildly inside his chest, threatening to escape the confines of his ribs like a running bull. The sensation of it was strange and incredibly strong; he didn't know what to make of it. He couldn't understand why he was being such an asshole to her when she had done nothing to him. She didn't deserve the harsh treatment and she supposed it was because his feelings for her were causing him to act irrationally. Otherwise, he would feel the way he did and he wouldn't be adverse to the idea to hurting her like he was. Her words were doing something to him. He has never felt these types of emotions before… the pain, the guilt and struggling notion to understand exactly what was going through his body and mind. He tried to find rationality in it, but couldn't. He needed someone who was better suited to the extreme feeling that was steadily building up inside of him. He hoped that the witch could provide that relieving knowledge. If she could find the heart to, that is.

"Enlighten me," he said quietly.

She turned his head slowly to find him staring at her. Those deep grey eyes flared with the need to learn.

"W-what?"

"Enlighten me," he said again. "I want to know how to fix this."

The witch had the nerve to scowl. Her eyes looked as if she truly didn't believe that he wanted to know how to go about mending the broken bond between them.

There wasn't one. That was the problem.

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean? Everything has already been said. What more can you possibly want to know?"

"I want to know what you really think of me."

She assumed she knew what he thought of her. It was be refreshing to know what she thought of him. So, he waited. He looked at her with imploring eyes. He needed to know.

Hermione furrowed her brows, setting them in deep concentration. A slight hue blossomed across her lovely cheeks and it made Draco wonder what was going through that brilliant little mind of hers. He already knew what was going through his. She was a perfect package of magic pursuit and happiness. Everything she did was with purpose and a day never went by that he wasn't able to witness her passion and generosity. There was a hole in his heart that he never knew existed. Maybe it was only coming through because he had spent so much time trying to fill it with useless things such as bullying others and having his fill of women. Both of which were nothing compared to what this witch could offer. A challenging witch such as herself was a rare occurrence, indeed.

He felt a flutter of astounding hope reverberate through him. Up until now, he didn't have any.

"I suppose you already know," she murmured. "I'm sure you've heard it many times. It baffles me that it still hasn't settled with you."

"Then tell me."

Hermione chose that moment to look at him with those amber eyes. Small flecks of gold flickered in her irises. He was caught in the torrent of what he was trying to capture.

Draco listened. As he did, he moved closer to the hearth and ordered them both a small meal of cheese, slices of meat, fruit and bread. Nothing too heavy. She seemed to appreciate it. She ate everything that was offered to her. She revealed everything that she thought of him. From his perfect hair to his slightly crooked nose, she told him that everything about him made her want to scream and punch and kick him until he was bruised not physically but mentally as well. She spoke for quite a while before she let the words slowly turned into nothing more than a murmur in the wind. Their conversation had turned more intimate through the hour or two. They listened to what the other had to say. Sometime later, they were sitting by the fire, shoulder to shoulder, wondering who find the courage to bring up what happened to between them. Courage became her, however.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

Hermione turned, her eyes glistening again. "Kiss me." she whispered. "Why did you kiss me?"

If only she hadn't brought it up. He wouldn't have to dwell on just how wonderful her lips felt against his as they moved over them. Her body had been pressed so tightly against his that it made it next to impossible to pull away from her. Even when he did, her body called out to his and he had no choice but to test the waters again, this time delving into the sweet entrance of her mouth with more ardor than he ever thought he possessed. Their kiss seemed to have been years ago, but in reality, it was just hours when they first exchanged such caresses.

"I thought it would shut you up," he lied after reliving the moment of his fall. He gulped, hoping she would buy it.

She didn't.

"I know you kissed me for a reason, Malfoy." she said softly. There was a hint of a daydream that wrapped around her simple words. He wondered thoughtfully that it meant. "Will you tell me?"

"No."

"Are you going to leave it to me to guess what it meant?"

Does this witch ever shut the hell up? It wasn't an easy thing to discuss, so why was she pushing so hard?

He could feel her eyes on him. It had to be the most unnerving feeling in the world. Her eyes were like sharp knives and penetrated him like them too. He couldn't move out of line of them; she was going to keep pressing him until he told her the truth.

"Have you ever wondered why I picked on you, Granger?" he asked softly, his voice weak and vulnerable. "Why I bullied only you and no one else."

"You've bullied a lot of people, Malfoy."

"All those others weren't girls," he wanted to growl, but didn't. His statement came out just as weak as it naturally would have if it were not for the situation. "Now, think. You're best known for that after all."

He tilted his head as to try to get a glance at her act of concentration. Her brows were drawn slightly together and she was biting her lip. He had the sudden urge to forget trying to help her figure it out and tell her flat out how he felt but resisted. He needed to her to do it on her own.

When it looked like she wasn't making any progress, he murmured something that he knew would help her out greatly.

"Everything I've said was the opposite of what I felt." He told her, looking at her in a new light. "If I told you that you looked ugly… I'm sure you know what that equates to."

Of course she did. Otherwise, she wouldn't look so astonished and crestfallen. He turned away. He didn't want her rejection and he couldn't ask for her acceptance, either. The only thing he could do now was let the night stretch on as long as it could and forget anything happened between them come tomorrow. If only she would let it be.

"How long?"

"How long what?" he asked stubbornly. "That I liked you? That I found attraction in your brilliant mind, that I wanted what I knew I couldn't have? You tell me, Granger. You only triggered something when you fisted me in the jaw."

 _Three years._

Yes, three years of solid devotions and feeling proceeded by three years of irrational hatred for a girl that would turn is world upside down. Six or so years was a small price to pay when he knew very well that he couldn't have her the way he wanted to. There was no way in the demon infested rivers of Hell that he wouldn't be able to be with her the way he wanted to.

"That's a long time to hide something like that," she said just as softly. He didn't realize she had moved closer to him. "I'm a little surprised you kept it to yourself for so long."

"That isn't actually true," he corrected her.

"Who knows besides you?"

"Zabini and Nott were the ones to point it out a couple of years ago." He mused. "I suspect they found out way before I did. They were constant pains in my ass and wouldn't let it be."

"Maybe they were trying to push you to listen to your heart."

"My heart says one thing but my mind says another."

"What does it say now?"

Draco looked at her with a pained expression to which she looked at him with equal measure. There was hesitance in her eyes, but he knew that she was contemplating the same thing he was.

What was he going to do? He had no idea.

"What do you think I should do, Granger?"

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. "I don't know. We'll just have to see, Draco."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the little cliffhanger. I couldn't help myself. I initially wanted to update this before I struck the one week mark. Better late than never, yeah?

Hopefully we'll see another update very soon. I spent all day writing this (I was around 2500 words before I started.) I don't know how AKxx does it T.T

Yes, I'm singling you out, girl! :D I have no attention span whatsoever!

Chapter is unedited, unfortunately

Please, please please let me know what y'all think of this chapter! I am dying to know! Your reviews make my day. I cannot express that enough. Even a simple 'good chapter' will do. I can't say I'm tired of not seeing a review, but I know I struggle to sit down and right because I find that no one wants to read it. The lack of reviews and interest effects my motivation so much and I just want to get back to knowing that people like what I put out.

Thanks, y'all!

-Carolare Scarletus


	7. A Step Forward

_.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter Six_

 _A step forward_

 _.~._

* * *

~*- What a wonder one night can do-*~

* * *

The moment she said his name, he swore that all the air inside his lungs was knocked out of him and he had an out of body experience. For years he has been known as just Malfoy. Not that his surname had anything to do with the animosity that she held toward him. Up until Fourth year, it had been a friendly little greeting exchanged between them, like something two people at odds would say to acknowledge each other. It was almost friendly, but only in his delusional eyes. He had come accustomed to the smitten idea of her calling him something other than 'ferret' and 'Malfoy' with the biting tone of abhorrence.

Anything would have certainly done.

Never like this…

 _…'Thu-thump.'_

Draco was in complete disbelief. With Hermione staring at him expectantly, he couldn't find the words to express what he was feeling. Who would have thought that the know-it-all would even whisper his name? He felt as if someone was having a go at him and that he was sure that they would undoubtedly come out and tear him down for even opening his heart to her. Hermione had to be part of it, too. She would love to get payback for all the years of hell he put her through. As he waited, he realized that the anxiety of her calmness was a manifestation of his own nervousness and not some plot to make an ass of him.

Gods, he hoped.

Hermione stared at him for a moment before looking away. She had drawn her arms around her knees once again and was rocking back and forth like a small child. She had an interesting look of contemplation on her face. Evidently, she was deep in thought. It was mesmerizing to watch as it was chilling to wait. If this was what she did whilst in concentration, he wanted no part in what she was preparing to say to him once she did finally collect her thoughts.

It reminded him of what he used to do. He wasn't as artful in the way of communication as she was and his social skills were reserved at best, but he used to draw himself in. For the longest time he dreaded talking to others, a phase that lasted only a few short years. Nevertheless, it had dawned on him as a constant reminder of what life was like before things changed and churned like an unsavory flip. For the worst, that was certain. Now, his social standing was impeccable; no one could hold a torch to him.

But, that wasn't why he cared to compare his old behaviors with the witch.

He had told her of a story, of a little sparrow who was afraid to fly. It was had been a children's book that his mother read to him when he was an infant and every year since starting Hogwarts, she has pulled him aside during the Holidays so they could relive that one moment that they shared only between them. It was special for them, and he hoped it would become special for Hermione and him as well. The sparrow in the book reminded him so much of Hermione that it became the nightmares of his wakefulness whenever he chose to think about it. It was strange that the very thing that he had sent to her on the night he saw her arguing with Weasley was something that he had been familiar with all these years. It only took a second's decision to conjure it and it was on its way.

In the book, the illustration had shown a little bird that had been born into a loving family. Befittingly, she had grown up to be quite the smart little creature; she had a great social network, attended to the things that she ought to watch over, and was driven to do greatness, but when it came time to embark on her own journey, she had become reluctant to leave the comfort of her home. It was not that she didn't want her; with all her heart she wanted to go out and explore but she couldn't bring herself to do so without firm settlement. The guidance of others had become somewhat of a driving force for her and without it, she had nothing. Another bird of a different family had watched her all her life and decided to help, much like he was reaching out to Hermione. They two became friends; he invested in her like a master would do an apprentice and the two eventually departed. It was a tragic ending if he ever saw one, but the message had been very clear.

Everyone is entitled to their own freedom.

Draco couldn't agree anymore.

Lost in his thoughts, he pulled himself together and focused back to the situation at hand. She had called him by his name, and he was determined to figure out where she stood. As open as the witch was, he wouldn't be surprised if there were some things that she kept only to herself.

He was stricken with a sudden urge to discover what she was hiding.

"W-what," he cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity," what did you just say?"

She blinked at him and frowned. "I said your name. It is Draco, yes? Unless, you've been lying about that."

"Of course not." Again, he cleared his throat. His voice was cracking up like a boy transitioning into manhood. "Truth be told, I didn't think you knew…"

What a stupid thing to say.

Like she didn't know his name.

Between the pug named Pansy and his mates, he was sure she knew he was even if she was hit in the face with Bludger and tossed into hysteric delirium. She would be able to recognize him even through the haze of oblivion. He was just that much of a premonition for her not to forget.

"You did that too," she reminded something that he hadn't thought about in a long time. "You would introduce yourself with your surname first."

"It's customary to do so. It showed standing and deliverance."

"But you didn't do that with me." she said softly, staring at him. "You introduced yourself using your first name. We didn't meet on the train, remember? We met in Madame Malkin's. You were so… nervous. Like it was hard to speak to me without stuttering or finding the wrong word."

"Malfoy's are never nervous," this was a lie and it held true when his words crumbled like a horribly baked cake under the weight of it. She smiled. "I was only eleven and there must have been something in the air. Anyway, I can't believe you remember that. It happened such a long time ago."

Hermione laughed melodiously. It was soothing to hear her laughter. "You sound like we're adults! As if we're both in our late thirties and fondly looking back on our childhood with reserved tenderness. No wonder you have such a stern expression. You need to loosen up a little, enjoy life one day at a time."

He wanted to tell her that it was hard to enjoy life when life was being so fucking horrible to him. At that very moment, he felt his blood boil and not in the normal sense that something wasn't settling well with him. He was angry. Increasingly so, he became angrier at the thought of what he had to do for the Dark Lord and what he had to accomplish in the coming months in order to save his family. His father had done some shit worthy things in his days; even now, he questioned is support and his loyalty to a spirt of mass destruction. His ideals just didn't match his. It was odd how a couple hours with someone like Hermione could open up every single door and shine light on something that used to be so dank.

His arm burned, the coils of the fire searing his skin but he tended to ignore it. His mind was occupied with better things and she was sitting right beside him.

She was incredible.

As the fire of the hearth illuminated her face, it wasn't hard to figure out why he found her so remarkably brilliant.

Small sun-kissed freckles appeared in intricate patterns that expanded across her cheeks and nose. There was a slightly embarrassed hint of color that rose to her cheeks whenever her eyes darted around, obviously avoiding eye contact with him. Her hair, once a nest of unruly curls now cascaded down her shoulders and hit just below her breasts. When had it gotten so long? He had the sudden urge to reach out and play with the soft tresses and that was exactly what he did. His hand caught a single strand and twirled it around his finger. Mesmerized, he looked into her eyes. The simple brown orbs held a spark of amber. Golden flakes flickered and twinkled at him. It was then that he fell into a deeper trance. She gave and gave and got nothing in return. She needn't speak; her heart and soul spoke for her. All she had to do was listen.

"Maybe you're right, Granger." He said smirking. "Maybe I do need to loosen up, as you say."

She must have considered what she said thoughtfully because her cheeks were now glowing like the slightly touched hue of a rose. She looked so divine. Draco never saw anything more breathtaking. He wanted to capture it, but who would want to steal an angel from heaven?

"I-I didn't mean it like that."

"Sure you didn't." he continued to smirk. Teasing her had always been so fun.

Hermione's blush deepened and she looked away, too frightened to even look at him in fear he would twist her words.

Not that he did. He found what she did say humorous to say the least. Who knew the prudent witch thought such lustful thoughts?

To be fair, he hadn't really said anything to make her mad.

"You know," she finally said some time later, looking into his eyes as well," you never gave me any reason why I should believe you."

He looked at her.

"I don't believe a word you've said to me." There was hint of lying in her voice.

Was she teasing him now?

"Would you believe me if I said I've changed?" his hand fell from her hair and was now running lines down her cheek and neck. His eyes followed where his finger was guiding him.

"You've bullied me for years," she reminded him softly. "Called me names, derided me for no reason, poked fun of me in front of the entire school. I can't count how many times you've thrown my books on the floor or called me…" She let the last bit of her sentence trailed off. They both knew what he had called her. No need to bring it up now. "At first, I pitied you. Then, I realized there was something truly revolting in the way that you treated me. Of course, it had everything to do with your upbringing. To be instilled with such hatred at an early age would no doubt lead to negative attributes and a distorted view of the world. I don't blame it entirely on you. I just can't accept that someone could go from hating someone one day and…" she hesitated to find the right word. She had just found it when he moved closer to her and whispered it into her ear.

"Like."

"What?"

"I like you." He stared down at her. His move hand to where hers sat on the cold stone. They were mere inches from each other. "I like you, Gran-Hermione. I have for a while." He gulped, finding saying her words hard to swallow. Hell, if she was able to do it, then so could he. It would get some getting used to. "As hard as it sounds, it's the truth. At the beginning I couldn't stand you, and it wasn't for the reasons you stated. Sure, my parents had some influence on my prejudices. I didn't tease and deride you because you're a Muggleborn. I teased you because I didn't understand how someone so smart and beautiful could possibly outshine me."

"One thing you need to understand is that Pureblood valued themselves than anyone else. And to have you rise above me on every possible stand was a mockery to what I stood for, what my parents stood for and raised me to believe. I didn't do it on purpose. I was only trying to conceal what feelings I had for you. Little did I know that the feelings would evolve into something remarkable, even for me?" he breathed, his eyes burning.

He knew that his words struck her. He watched with newly found confidence as her eyes glossed over and widened. Gods, what the hell was going through her brilliant mind? He wanted to know. He wanted to link his mind with hers and peer into her mind and attempt to string together what she could possibly be thinking. The witch didn't make it easy. Her mannerisms were so carefully placed; he had spent a good amount of his early days reading and then in return trying to decipher them. He had gotten along fairly well; he even considered himself a Granger mind breaker. The highest honor, he was sure.

"Is that why you taunted me during our session? To get detention with me so you can tell me all this?"

"It sure as hell wasn't to sing like a bird and dance like a lunatic." he mused jokingly. "But, yes. Seeing that all my other attempts to get you to notice me had ended horribly, I decided to catch you in your natural habitat- in the midst of learning. Taunting you during our session was a part of my diabolical plan to get you in my clutches. And, it worked."

He grabbed for her. The witch squealed delightedly at his sudden brazenness. The pair danced around a little and exchanged a few sparks of laughter.

"If wizarding society could see us now. I think they would shit bricks." Draco nuzzled her neck playfully.

"I wouldn't know," she smiled. "I always thought the Pureblood, Half-blood stuff was a bunch of rubbage. I don't think I would be suited for such a zealous lifestyle, anyway. Why we can't all be accepting of each other is beyond me. One day, I suppose. But that day isn't now."

"You're not missing anything." He swept her hair out of the way and kissed her neck. "What would you say that I hope for the same?"

They broke apart. Hermione was flushed and Draco was equally unhinged. They took a moment to collect themselves. She sat down for a moment and he stood just beside her, looking down.

"I would say you're barking mad!" she laughed, sitting down and throwing herself back and landed fairly softly on the floor. "The most absurd thing I have ever heard!"

"It's true," he chuckled, leaning back and looking down at her. "Reckon we should take care of the last few boxes?"

She waved her hand dismissively," In a minute. I just want to lay here."

"On the cold, hard ground?"

"Good point." She sat up and sighed.

There was something on her mind.

"What are you thinking?" he asked despite himself.

Hermione looked at him. Her amber eyes were big and reflected a slight golden ambience that he had grown to adore. He then looked at her lips. They were trembling, as were her hands. She was really having quite a difficult time trying to put words into what she had just been told.

What was causing her to be so quiet and reclusive? Had he been wrong to tell her?

Would it have been better to keep it a secret?

No, he thought with quite the conviction he didn't know he possessed. It wasn't wrong because it was the truth. How could he be so selfish to keep it hidden from her? For the greater good or not, he wanted her to leave with something to look fondly back to. Even if he had to build their relationship on the foundation of lies and mistrust, he was sure that she would treasure whatever conspired between them.

"It's moments like this that make me wonder if any of this is real." Hermione didn't break but it might've if she didn't have such a sound control on it. "I can't get over the fact that you were so horrible to me and now we're talking as if nothing happened."

She fell silent once more and it killed Draco on the inside to see her so withdrawn. Biting her lip, he knew then that something was wrong.

"Hermione, please," he begged her. "You must tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. Her eyes darted about, not knowing where to look.

"Is this about what I said?" he asked. "If it is, what can I do to assuage you?"

"I don't think…"

"Say you believe me."

"Then I would be lying!" she cried. "You must understand that this is hard to accept. Minutes of vulnerability can't erase years of mistreatment. I-I need time to think this over."

Just as she said that, she began to move. Their detention was drawing to an end and they still had several things to transfer to the new classroom. After that, bed. They were both exhausted. Draco could tell just by looking at her that she wanted to go to bed and what kind of man would he be if he did not comply with her request?

He had to let her go.

Draco stood back in his place, his arms crossed out in front of him. The muscles in his arms and chest were quite delicious, and as Hermione moved to stand she took a discreet glance of his physique and gulped. Now was not the time to act upon her own desires and years of secret admiration. Despite being a Pureblood and being virtually untouchable, she secretly found him a bit, well, cute. She never admitted this to anyone. All her girlfriend would either kill her or tease her for liking him. She didn't think she could deal with that sort of humiliation. Draco didn't know why she would be embarrassed with having feelings for him. It was probably the same reason why he hadn't said anything about his feelings towards her to anyone but Theo and Blaise. They understood while others would read between the lines and tack things on where they didn't belong.

He pondered her ability to be so open. Even as her secret admirer, he had been quite surprised to discover that the witch was just filled with juicy secret and treasures. She was quite literally, to put it into words, an open book. No wonder why she read so much. She wanted to be less obvious and a harder read. That way no one would be able to discover what lied within her pages. If anything, he knew. He knew more about the witch than he ever thought possibly and if it weren't for those sparrows, he wouldn't be where he was right now.

Hermione was a gentle creature. One who shared and wore her soul and heart on her sleeves. Her friendliness and giving nature was one of the reasons why he became so drawn to her.

His hand came to caress her cheek. This gesture seemed to intimate and he was risking more than just getting close to her than he cared to admit. As his eyes searched hers, he began to tremble. Maybe it had been a mistake to do this, but he was still willing to find out if it had been.

"Everything you've done can't be erased."

"It sure as hell can't be forgotten," he snarled. He pulled away quickly, marching over to the abandoned storage room where the last remaining boxes say waiting for him. He needed to clear his mind. He didn't know whether or not he should throw something against the wall or get the bloody detention over with. One thing was for sure, he should have waited to tell his secrets to the witch. He knew that she wouldn't listen, much less care. "We better finish up our job so we can get out of here. It's late and I know you want to go. The sooner we get it up there, the sooner I can-"

"No."

Draco stopped what he was doing, turned and looked at the daring little witch. If It hadn't been a serious conversation, he would have said hell to convictions and thrown the witch against the wall and had his wicked little way with her.

He raised a chiseled eyebrow and said," What?"

"I-I said no." she told him sternly.

"No to finishing our detention and going to bed?"

She nodded.

"Who knew you would be one for a restless night?" he grossed. "Unfortunately, I'm not. I plan on getting some sleep tonight. Gods know I could use it."

This wasn't exactly the way he planned for her to find out that his lack of energy and interest steamed from an inadequate amount of sleep. Gods knew that the depletion of magic and energy could be stimulated by a good night of sleep. He was only making excuses now. The Dark Lord was a formidable presence and watched him wherever he went. The only reason he was able to remain undetected for the most part was because he was skilled at shielding his mind. If he knew… fuck, there would be more than just his ass on the line.

The Muggleborn walked from where she stood and stopped in front of him. Looking him over, he knew that she was searching ever available space of his body and face for his mistreatment and abuse. Her eyes combed over every inch of him. He knew that she was taking in the hollowness of his cheeks, and the sunken depth of his eyes and unusual paleness of his skin. Fuck, if he didn't know any better he would say that he was being tormented by demented thoughts every night in the pursuit of something darker. He would not tell her that, of course.

"You look so tired."

He looked down at her, keeping an eye on her hands as they assessed the thinness of his cheeks and jaw. He remained silent.

"What is causing you to lose so much sleep?"

Draco gulped, which went unnoticed to the witch. He couldn't say even if he could.

Instead, he grabbed her wrist and entwined his fingers with hers. "That I cannot say, Hermione. So much is at stake if I even breathe a word of it."

He left it at that before attracting her attention to something else. His goal was to make her trust him, to allow her to open up to her in a way that he will be able to take advantage of what he mind could offer. He didn't want to manipulate her, but it was the only way he could serve the Dark Lord and possible save his family.

 _I'm so sorry_ , his eyes seemed to say. Again, the witch was obvious to the underlying condition of their meeting. It would remain like that until he had the nerve to come clean to her. Hopefully, it would only be for this discretion and nothing more. He knew he didn't have the heart to apologize if anything else were to happen to her. If it was any consultation to her, it was eating him up on the inside. He just couldn't tell her.

He felt the witch's hands on him and he looked down. "What are you doing?"

She seemed to pull herself from deep thought. Her head shook just slightly, causing some of her curls to tickle her open neck. He watched with regal determination as she removed her small hands from his chest, looking highly embarrassed.

"I wanted to make sure."

"That I was still breathing?" he raised an eyebrow. "I can assure you that I am, Granger. Now, let's go. We still have those boxes to take care of."

"Forget the boxes, Draco." Hermione said demandingly. "I want to talk to you."

Draco was just about to move when she had confessed her wish.

Why did she have to be so caring? Why couldn't she have just ignored whatever the hell she found and tossed it aside instead of paying attention to it?

"There is nothing to talk about," he told her.

"Yes, there is."

"What is there to talk about?" he snarled. She gasped and backed away from him, frightened by what he might do if she was close to him. Never has it pained to see any girl suffer from the hands of his insanity. He regretted using such a harsh tone. He was just not used to being cared and looked after.

With a softer voice, he said," There are some things that I can't discuss with you."

"I understand," she seemed to whimper softly. "Can I at least ask why, though?"

He shook his head," No, you can't. "Then he paused. "The boy you knew then, Hermione," he began, allowing his eyes to settle on hers as she stared at him. It took a great deal of control not to breakdown, but he held himself together the best he could. "He doesn't exist now, I assure you. It's been years since I've held any real resentment toward you. Whether it was truly ill-willed, or feigned it on my part, I had no choice but to act upon the lesser evil. If you knew what they could have done to me… done to you if I showed any hint of emotion toward you…I'm not asking you to accept me. I'm asking you to be open-minded."

Hermione didn't move. Having been startled by his words, she stood there.

The Slytherin held his breath.

Slowly, she looked up again. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't think I can, Draco. I want to, but there has to be more than just words. They just don't mean anything right now coming from you."

Shit, she knew just where to strike.

Instead of voicing or showing his hurt, he remained quiet.

"If all that you said is true," she said softly, her voice quivering just a bit," then why didn't you stop until just a moment ago?"

"What do you mean?"

"You called me a Mudblood just the other day and if you like someone, you should at least… at least try to be civil with them. We're not first years. I believe we can act like adults when it comes to manners such as this. It's entirely hard to accept something that I know in my heart can't be true." She shook her head to ease whatever she was feeling and then looked at him. "My mind says one thing and my heart says another."

"I know we're not first years anymore. That's why I… that's why I tried to get you alone. Sure, it wasn't the best of plans but what do you expect? There was no way you would've met me anywhere in public and stepping into your domain was off limits. I had no other choice but to get you into trouble."

"You certainly are attracted to trouble, Draco." she murmured, her eyes widening, astonished. "I can't believe that was the only way you could've gotten me to talk to you. Did all your other trials fail?"

"Most of them," he gritted his teeth, reminding himself not to get angry again. "That's beside the point. I… I'm sorry that it had to happen the way it did. If there was any other way I would have done it. I just needed you willing and the fact that you're listening to me know is absolutely amazing."

He caressed her cheek and smiled.

"What is your heart saying now, Hermione?"

Her hand came to rest on his. "It's telling me I'm being selfish for hiding what I'm feeling," she whispered, her voice a passing current. "That I shouldn't care what my mind thinks because everyone deserves a chance."

"And, your mind?" He was dying to know what that mind of hers was thinking. It would tell him what her heart could not.

The witch caught his gaze and said," That I should consider what my heart feels."

"Then listen," he hissed, reaching toward her and pulling her close. "Listen to what it's saying. I can't promise that I will never hurt you again. I damn well might and would be lying if I said I won't. Shit happens and we both need to learn to accept that. But, I know I can improve. It's not easy to be in a situation like this. It's new for me as well."

His lips hovered over hers, waiting.

"What about the name calling?" her bottom lip trembled a little. He eyed it with passionate longing. "Can you promise me never to say that degrading word again?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Hermione looked at him and he realized then that for the first time in his life that his words had done what they were meant to do.

Her eyes shined with the acceptance of his promise and it was up to him to deliver.

They spent the rest of the night conversing and when it finally was time to retire, Draco made a stand to ensure that Hermione felt comfortable with what transpired between them. Night drew to a slow end and by the time he walked her to the tower, he had made his decision. He sealed it with a kiss. It was deliberately chaste; he didn't want to frighten her with overwhelming her with the downpour of his desire and emotion. She poured everything that she could into it. He knew that she was trying and by the time they pulled away from each other, they were both panting, their eyes half-lidded and filled with raw lust.

He navigated the corridors for quite some time until he was drawn back to the blasted place to which had started it all.

Professor Snape stood with his arm folded over his chest, his eyes glittering maliciously as he watched his Godson walk toward him. He had fulfilled his end of the bargain, as did he. Now, it was time to discuss the next step in what he believe was a little charade between him and the Gryffindor.

"You know what must be done." he drawled slowly. "See to it that you accomplish it in the coming weeks."

With that he vanished, leaving Draco to his muse.

He believed that the Sparrow had finally been set free and that the Serpent finally found someone he could rely on.


	8. Testing the Boundaries

_.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Testing the Boundaries_

 _.~._

* * *

~*-Few days remain in the idles of paradise -*~

* * *

 **Wedne** **sday September 25th, 1996**

From where he sat in the library and the way that his books were aligned, Draco could just make out the crown of her head above the massive tower of books that she had barricading her overworked form. The stress that rolled off her was palpable; even during their lesson earlier that day, he could the amount of effort that she was putting into acting as if nothing was wrong and going about her day like nothing was troubling her. But he knew. He knew everything.

Ever since the night in detention, his relationship with the Gryffindor had flourished to something that resembled friendship. Of course, it was just in its beginning stages; neither of them knew where it would lead, but if he was lucky (as if luck had anything to do with what occurred the night of their detention), he wouldn't have to worry. All he had to do was sit back and let Fate decide the next course of action. In the meantime, he decided to enjoy the amount of attention he was getting from her and the attention and adoration he was pouring into every waking moment that they were together, which was not often. They took their leave to late night study sessions and patrolling the halls when they were assigned together (which was often, but not often enough according to him). One night he remembered fondly, Hermione had called him incorrigible, which made him smirk from ear to hear. Even as she made her merry little way down the corridor and kissed his cheek as to say goodnight, the smirk remained and there it would stay.

He looked down at the paper Sparrow he had been folding. He knew he couldn't risk sending it now, but there was something he needed to know before he pursued anything else with Hermione. As an anonymous acquaintance, it was the safest way to ensure that she answered his questions truthfully. He couldn't risk asking them himself; he continued to remind himself that, when the time came, he would tell her who has been sending the letters and he hoped that she would be able to forgive him. It's something he had been holding his breath for quite a while.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" mumbled Theodore, his eyes closed, arms folded on the table while his head rested on his sore limbs. "She's sitting right there."

"A boy does not simply walk up and talk to the girl they like." The Pureblood Prince said, agitated. "Besides, there are more risks than rewards."

"What risks are you speaking of?"

"Someone may see."

"And, that's bad?" Theo asked, confused. "You might as well tell the whole bloody school you are a thing. Merlin knows you need to, anyway." He mumbled before sighing and saying," Just go talk to her."

Draco looked up. Hermione was still scribbling away. He scowled. Potter and Weasley had just joined her and he was upset that this would be the last time he would be able to sneak peeks at her for the duration of his stay. Why they had to show up now was beyond him; it was as if they had nothing better to do than to bug the shit of her. And he was right. He could see the smoke of her aggravation rise above and fan out around her. She looked up, her eyes hardened and seething with rage.

She was a fiery little thing.

He would have to remember not to piss her off.

As he listened and ignored Theo, a previous conversation began to emerge from theirs. It seemed to shake him to his very core.

 _"Have you given it any thought?" she asked curiously._

 _Hermione's knees were drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them like some reassuring cloak to which she could protect herself from what sort of answer he could give her._

 _He looked at her as if she said the most absurd thing, and she had. Telling his friends about what had gone on between them was the last thing he wanted to do. Not because they wouldn't approve; Gods know he would love to shut Theo up and see Blaise a couple of Galleons. Still, he had to be careful. He didn't know who could be listening._

 _The two of them were in the corridor, disillusioned curtesy of Hermione. Although they were both Prefects, they still ran the chance of getting caught by Filch and his fucking familiar Mrs. Norris. He swore that they had some sort of love affair going on between them and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at how ludicrous it sounded._

 _Draco stared at her and said," You should do that more often."_

 _"Laugh?" she enquired, raising an eyebrow. "I laugh enough."_

 _"You laugh, but you don't laugh from the heart."_

 _"Says you." She scoffed, rocking her body so that her shoulder bumped into his._

 _"Says me?" he grinned in a challenging sort of way. "Why do you say that?"_

 _"If I don't laugh enough then you must laugh too much."_

 _"Suppose I did," he began, "it's not out of happiness."_

 _Hermione turned and looked at him. "If not from happiness, then what?"_

 _"Loneliness." He breathed and for a moment time remained suspended between them. "Sure, I laugh but that's because I haven't found a good enough reason to. People can feign joy, Granger. It doesn't take much and the fact it's fooled even you is astounding."_

 _He knew that she was thinking about all those times that he has caused misfortune and because it was the result of acting the bully rather than trying to be a friend. He was feared by all and detested by most. The only Gryffindor that had given him the time of day was sitting right next to him and every other person had only made matters worse. He was just enjoying the time they had together while it lasted because he knew what would eventually happen._

 _"Have you ever stopped, stood back and considered what you were doing was wrong?"_

 _"Loads of times."_

 _"And?"_

 _"I continued anyway. I was a born a little bastard to two loving parents and that was exactly how I was going to conduct myself. I didn't care for anyone else, Granger. I only cared about myself."_

 _"And, now?" she urged with a slightly desperate plea to her voice. "Do you care now?"_

 _He swallowed the giant lump in his throat. He suddenly felt parched for water._

 _She didn't give a wizard any choice in the matter; it was like she was forcing him to answer her questions._

 _"Well?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _And that was all she would get._

 _They sat like that for a while, both too afraid to speak and both wishing that the other had enough bravery to do so. It was times like this that perpetuated the fact that he was no Gryffindor. Hermione spoke for him._

 _"I don't think you're a bully," she murmured softly. "Maybe misunderstood."_

 _"And you're one to talk?" he snapped irritably. As hard as it was for him to keep his plans from her, his emotions were a lot harder to conceal. The witch knew just what buttons to press, which switched to flick on and off; she was made for interrogation. Unfortunately for him, she would not relent. He desperately wanted to lash out at her and say that the reason no one liked him was because they didn't understand him but that would have been a lie. Sure, no one knew him; they were most likely to turn a blind eye to him and his misery. He did have a few people he could count on, and he supposed she was sitting right beside him._

 _Silence fell between them once more before Hermione waited long enough before speaking._

 _"You know, I didn't mean it like that." she said softly despite being punished by his abrasive tone. "I meant that…"_

 _"You meant to say that no one cares to get to know me."_

 _"It's nothing like that!" she cried, grabbing his arm and without blushing as she normally would. "It's just… you haven't given anyone reason enough to warrant the want to get to know you."_

 _"I wonder how I was able to coax you, then."_

 _"You're being rather rude." she said angrily. "If you don't want me to talk about it, then please tell me. Otherwise, I'll just leave you to drown in your own self pity."_

 _"It's not self-pity."_

 _"Then what is it?" Is it me, is it us?"_

 _Yes and no_

 _"If this is going to work out, you're going to have to be able to trust me." There was a hint of sorrow in the way she spoke the words. No pitying attached. There was just unadulterated truth and concern. "I hope one day you'll be able to open up to me as I have opened up to you._

And, opened up to him she did.

There one thing that was made very clear about Hermione once they started consorting with each other like star-crossed lovers and that was she poured her heart into everything that she did. Even opening up to her had become a huge production. Like the ones you would have seen during the first introduction to moving pictures, the memory played before him like a silent picture before fading into blackness.

Someone was nudging him.

"Hello, earth to Malfoy." Theodore nudged him again with his elbow and awakened him. With a growl, Draco slapped his elbow and quickly looked back to Hermione.

Although he couldn't hear what they were saying, he knew that it was upsetting her. It pained himself to see her so upset; it pained him even more than he couldn't do anything to stop it from happening. One thing was for sure, those shitheads were going to get it, even if that meant that a Bludger was shoved up one of their asses during their match against Slytherin. Perhaps he should run their faces through the mud, too. Which was an added bonus seeing that they had pestered her close to tears.

He had half a mind to screw subtleness. He wanted to get up from his chair, walk over to them and tell them to fuck off and punch them in the noses for even making his girlfriend cry.

Good, Gods.

His girlfriend.

Merlin forbid.

One day he would be able to call her that but the witch wasn't his yet. First, he had to win her heart. If that meant being friendly with her two dolts she called best friends then so be it.

Draco sat back in his chair.

Oh, yes. Those Bludgers didn't sound half as bad.

* * *

"I just don't understand what is going on between the two of you, 'Mione. Whatever it is, it has to stop."

Hermione could feel the tears collect in the corners of her eyes but willed herself not to shed a tear. She sat with her back straight, her eyes focused on the text in front of her. She was poised as if she was reading her book opposed to listening to her two best friends rant about her relationship with Malfoy. She never told them what happened the night of their detention; it was always best to let them assume something bad happened then telling them and letting them blow things out of proportions. Which they were likely to do if they ever found about her Malfoy. She couldn't risk it. Not that she was ashamed of what happened, of course. When you had two friends that were like brothers to her and would go out of their way just to see you happy, even if that meant looking past what she saw, one learned to keep their mouth shut.

"You're spending quite a bit of time with him, you know." continued Ron as if he didn't know what type of reaction his words were eliciting. "It's like you're smitten by him. Like you fancy him or something. I've never seen you like this."

"We're only working together, Ron." she said weakly, unable to wrap her mind around what he was trying to say. "We're Prefects, so of course we're going to have to communicate with one another."

"Well, I don't like it." He mumbled, sliding back in his chair. His face was contorted into the nastiest expressions. Suddenly, he perked up. "Wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend? I heard a new shop opened up and…"

He took one look at her and mumbled something about 'nevermind.'

"You're probably going to be bust with Malfoy, anyway, so what's the point?"

This was the catalyst that set her off.

The timer inside her body was ticking away and she was only a moment from exploding.

Ron sighed, leaned forward and straightened out his legs. He looked at her and softly said," I miss you, Hermione. What's happened between us was something that neither of us wanted to happen. It just did, and I'm willing to accept that I wrong just so I can have you back. You're my best friend, and, well, I would love it if we grew more intimate."

A thundering bolder had crashed into her at the expense of his words.

Had her ears deceived her, or did she just hear that Ronald wanted to take their friendship to another level?

It was the most absurd thing she has ever heard. Ron wanted to be with her, as in girlfriend and boyfriend? Who would have thought that the boy knew what a girl was and that he could tell the difference between a pair of breasts and a muscular physique? Hell must have frozen over or something because she suddenly felt a slight chill.

Hermione stared at him expressionless. Giving false hope to someone so close and precious to her was not something she wanted to do; she wasn't that type of girl, and besides, who knew of what lied ahead and if her heart was already promised to another? Their relationship had only begun, but she could see the possibility of fulfillment. And that was enough for her not to go ahead with accepting whatever he was trying to express.

She fidgeted about, her sadness all but forgotten. Ron was blind by some preexisting notion that she was his and that she could only enjoy his company while he went out and hunted down others. It wasn't until he began dating Lavender Brown last week that he began to play a double life, one that would send any womanizer running, even Draco. It was a wonder what one sloppy kiss could do to a bloke, not that she knew. All she knew was that he was in over his head and it would nice to see him in a clearer state of mind. If Brown left any brain cells after snogging him so much, that is.

"I don't if this means anything but I've always thought that there was something going on between us." He told her fleetingly, like the world wouldn't go on if he didn't at least tell her how he felt. "I never told you because I didn't want Harry to find out. I suspect he would have felt left out or something…"

The witch looked at him with hardened eyes.

Forget Brown snogging him to the point of being brain dead because he practically was! How low could she possibly be if he thought of her and Harry in such a way? Surely, he must be joking and if he wasn't how could either of them be so oblivious?

She had enough.

Standing abruptly, Hermione began to collect her things together knowing that Ron was startled by the sudden brusqueness but too dumb to figure it out. As she packed, she could make out the words 'Slughorn,' and 'Party' through the haze of her anger and the clarity of her thoughts. Whatever he was asking, he could just forget about it. She didn't want to do it anyway.

As soon as he realized that she was leaving, he stood with her, followed her through the maze of tables and entrance to the library. By the time they made it to the end of the corridor on the same floor, she whirled around and glared at him with aggressively harsh eyes.

"Why are you following me?"

"Where are you going?"

They both seemed to ask these questions at precisely the same time. They stared at each other until Hermione was truly at her breaking point.

"Just leave me alone, Ronald."

He didn't catch onto the use of his full name, something she always did when she was annoyed and angry at him. A lot of things seemed to be going over his head or out the other ear of late.

"Alright, but will you tell me where you're going?" he asked dumbly.

"It is none of your business."

"You're not going to see him, are you?" When she didn't answer him, he let out a frustrated growl, whipped his arms out and caught her by the wrists. Thrown completely off guard, Hermione let out a perfect gasp, her eyes grew wide at his sudden brashness. He did not look happy. "Are you going to see that git?

Git?

Obviously he meant Draco. She supposed that even he couldn't warrant him recognition for occupying most of her time during the last week and half. Even though she told him time and time again that there was nothing going on between them, he still found ways to bring it up just to either aggravate her or make himself look lost and stupid.

"Never you mind where I'm going!"

"Are you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes challengingly.

Stopping, she turned and looked him dead in the eyes. "What if I am?" she asked, positioning herself so she appeared to have more bravado. She was able to get him to loosen his grip on her since he declared his astoundingly dumb accusation. "You're not my caretaker. I can handle myself. I'm free to do as I please and go where I want to. I don't have to tell you what I'm doing every waking moment, now do I?"

This seemed to verify whatever ploy that was going through his mind.

"You are, aren't you?" he whispered rather harshly. There was a kind of animosity that she had never seen in them and she winced. "I don't know what you're hanging out with him, 'Mione. He's no good. He's nothing more than a conniving Deatheater bent on mass extinction and supremacy. Can't you see it? He's using you and once he's through with you he'll toss you aside and go onto the next-"He stopped himself there, torn between continuing and remaining silent. "-Look, I care for you. I really do. I would hate to see you get hurt because you didn't listen to me to begin with. Tell you what, let's just go back to the Common Room and forget all this ever happened, yeah?"

"All this…" she breathed, unable to finish the sentence. Shaking her head, she looked at him and said," Do you have any idea how stupid what you just said sounds?"

"No?"

"You're being rather cruel."

"No crueler than Malfoy will be if you don't end your little friendship with him now." He seethed, but the pain was evident in his eyes. "He'll hurt you, 'Mione. I just don't want to see that happen."

"Stop saying that!"

"I'm only stating the truth!"

Her eyes filled with tears and for a second time that hour she was close to erupting. Within seconds, however, she was crying. Ron had finally done it.

"He won't hurt me." she sobbed. "Y-you don't know him like I do."

"Oh, like how?" he laughed in her face before throwing her arms from him. "How can you be so sure?" he asked, unaffected by her crying. "You can't just assume that. He's hurt every girl he's shagged; you won't be any different from the others."

"You can't just-"

"I don't want to have to say this but… you'd be an easy shag for him." He seemed to have been waiting years to tell her that. His expression was quite serious and there was no indication of feigned rebellion. Hermione was completely shocked. Now that it was out in the open, she couldn't help believe that her ears were deceiving her. Her Ron wouldn't be so heartless, but it was all just a fluke to ease her conscious. He had said it and there was no way of taking it back.

Hermione tried to fight back the tears but it was no use. Ron could have easily laughed in her face, which by the look of utter amusement flickering inside his eyes as if to say 'I told you so', he was. As cruel as his words were, why did she feel like she should believe him? Was there some underlining reason that she was being hesitant with him? If so, then what? What was causing her to be so indecisive?

"You do know why he's being so nice, right?" he took a step forward as she took a step back. "Like I said, you'd be an easy shag. You're like any other girl, 'Mione. You would love to be wooed and courted but at the end of the day only one thing matters and that's pussy. Gods, you have no idea how desirable you are. How much blokes want access to your body. Screw your mind, it's what's underneath your robes that matter. Everyone wants you and I'm sure Malfoy would love to fuck you rotten if he had the chance."

How could he say such things? How can he be this cruel, this openly abrasive? What had she done to deserve such treatment from someone she thought was her friend?

"I trust him," she whispered finally, unable to fight back as fiercely as she would have liked to.

"Of course you do!" he refuted joyfully. "I would too if I was in the same position as you. But, let's face it. There is no trusting a Deatheater and womanizer. And don't think once he uses you that I'll be here to take his sloppy seconds. A witch once fruitful with virtue won't always be like that. No one wants a fallen witch, Hermione."

She gulped down a deep fresh of air and continued. "You need to learn how to treat women, Ronald. Something you ought to learn before you lose me entirely."

He looked at her and said," I think I already have," before turning away and disappearing down the corridor.

Hermione remained there, her breathing labored, her eyes wide in shock. If deception had not reared its ugly head, she would have believed it was just a dream.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

She stood there looking at where Ron once stood, wondering what it was that brought her to this moment in the first place.

* * *

"You should go look for her," Theodore said rather vaguely as he pressed his quill to his lips and made a face. "Go see if she's okay, you know?"

Draco wasn't following in particular current. Beside his intuition, there wasn't anything guiding him that would warrant concern or anything of the sort. He roamed freely; his path paved before him cautiously and his head cleared with all blasphemy. He was attempting to ascertain the route that they had taken whilst in the midst of their argument. The vendetta between the two could have easily been the war that ended all wars but was more like a spark that fueled the erratic lining of the corridors. Least to say, he was worried and he would take no one's advantages as anything short as urgent.

Guided by his friend's admissions, he carried on.

Soon, he found himself in the heart of the Castle with nothing by the travelling circus to guide him. With an unsavory frown, Draco looked around to find her bearings and was quick to discover that his intuition had lead him in the right direction.

Just a few short steps down the corridor was his witch.

And she look most upset.

With wide strides, he caught up to her only to be bombarded and captured by the saddest melodies he ever heard.

Crying witches, as he knew very well, was not his forte.

So when he heard her struggling breath and penetrating sobs course through the air like a tuneless wreck, he couldn't help the feeling of broken fatigue crash down upon him like sullen rain. He felt as helpless as she did and it would only serve to reason that if she knew about his own woes and fears that her sadness would be plagued by something more than petty rivalry and a chance remembrance. The sooner the fucking bastard gets that through his thick skull, the better.

On the other hand…

He would do anything for her.

Gingerly, he came up behind her, their bodies only a whisper away. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she replied to his tender care with more wrecked sobs. He didn't know what the Weasel said to her; it better had been damn important if it caused such a negative reaction. Whatever it was, Draco would pay him back with equal attention and perhaps a broken nose and a swollen eye if he were truly fortunate. If only…

"H-How did y-you find m-me?" she asked, her words slightly muffled.

He looked down at her, his arms tightening. "Intuition."

"Liar."

Draco chuckled at her declaration and brought both of his arms around her. "Why do you say that?"

"I saw you in the library," her head shut up and he finally got a clear view of her reddened eyes. "I'm not blind, you know."

"I never said you were."

"Still." She began to fidget but not because he was holding her so close. "Why did you follow me?"

"You looked rather upset, that's why."

Hermione didn't say anything, as he knew she wouldn't. They became unfairly lost in the world that was the other and where time was no common enemy.

She looked up just as he looked down and smiled warmly at him.

He did not return it.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" he jutted his chin out in indication.

The witch shook her head and buried deeper into his chest. With a little nudging and careful pickings, she finally broke her resolve and said in a low whisper," He's a git..."

"I could have told you that," he snorted rather snarky.

"After all these years, he finally got up the nerve to ask me out?" she exclaimed, unaware that Draco's arms had tightened around her the instant she said it. "I just don't understand what he's playing at. He's finally…"

Suddenly, she looked up to find him staring off into space, his breathing hard, his eyes dark.

"What," he slowly looked down at her and said," did he say?"

A shiver ran through her. She looked up into his eyes and let out a soft gasp. The storm mirrored what he was feeling on the inside. What she said hadn't been something she should have shared; she needn't to fix it and quick.

"Tell me, Granger," he said coldly. "I'm skilled at Legilimency."

Frightened, she looked at him without saying a word. She couldn't decide what would be best- for him to see if for himself or for her to rely what Ron had said to her personally. She chose the latter. Her already severely shocked emotions wouldn't be able to handle it, anyway.

"I-I do-don't…" she sobbed into his chest. "H-he was so horrible!"

"Let me see," he said gently as he tried to contain his anger.

Shaking her head, she muttered her disapproval while vocalizing it would be of no use for him to see. He insisted upon it.

"Let me see, Hermione."

"Mno." she mumbled, pressing herself more firmly against him.

"Hermione."

With a little bit more persuasion, she finally crumbled and let him in.

As she lowered the walls in her mind, she became highly aware of how personal Draco would come face to face with her most intimate thoughts. Although she didn't feel anything remotely close to desire or lust toward him, Ron was still her friend. As harsh as his words were, she hoped that some truth would come of allowing him to see into her mind. This was when her bravery had to come forth.

Draco could see the torment playing in her eyes. He hesitated for a moment and as he slipped into her mind, she could very well see why she was so reluctant to allow him to see. Her mind was an open book. He walked through her memories as easily as he could have roamed the corridors. Once he found what he was searching for, he was appalled that someone that called her his friend would ever whisper such horrible obscenities. By the end of the crusade, he was seething.

 _"I don't want to have to say this but… you'd be an easy shag for him."_

 _He watched Hermione as her eyes widened a total downfall of emotions sprinkled like star dust upon her. The air around her became tight. Utter disappointment as it mixed with rejection and reluctance came to pass over her. If he had been the one standing on the outside looking in, he would have no inkling as to the extent of her heartbreak at the sound of her best friend saying these cruel things. Stumbling into the girl he loved, he felt his own heart pinch but not out of what he was experiencing through Hermione but out of the sheer extent of animosity toward the boy who didn't know what love was._

 _It wasn't shagging, that was for damn sure._

 _"Like I said, you'd be an easy shag. You're like any other girl, 'Mione. You would love to be wooed and courted but at the end of the day only one thing matters and that's pussy. Gods, you have no idea how desirable you are. How much blokes want access to your body. Screw your mind, it's what's underneath your robes that matter. Everyone wants you and I'm sure Malfoy would love to fuck you rotten if he had the chance."_

He pulled back from her, leaving behind the scope of her mind. The presence of what occurred remained fresh in his, however. It took every bit of his devoted tranquility not to explode. What tipped the scale was what Weasley said about her.

Draco wasn't just attracted to her beauty, but her mind as well. Anyone who was in it for only her looks was

"I'm going to fucking kill him!"

Instantly, Hermione grabbed for Draco as he turned and stormed down the corridor.

"W-where are you going?"

"I'm going to find the motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind." He hissed. "How dare he speak to you like that!"

An easy shag, indeed.

He never once thought about their intimate standing. All he wanted and was chasing after was her intelligence. Granted, he really didn't have the most sincere motives but at least he could say he wasn't in for it just to dip his wand and run off like a little coward. He was hoping… Gods, he was hoping that things between them could be different. Perhaps they could really and truly be together and after he told her about what he had to do in order to save his parents, maybe she would find it in her heart to forgive him. He could only safely assume that she would; Hermione was a gentle soul, but that didn't mean she was incapable of holding a thousand year grudge and keeping him on a short leash for the rest of their lives. With all seriousness, he would have to kiss some serious Gryffindor ass down the road if he had any chance of keeping her.

It did not help that Hermione was begging him not to go see him, to forget what he heard and saw. There was an offer of a night in the Room of Requirement together which caused him to rethink his plans of letting Weasley have a taste of his own medicine. Draco stopped and turned around.

"What did you just say?" he asked, bringing his hands to her cheeks reflectively. He tried to act like he didn't know what the Room was. Better said than done, really.

"You heard me," she breathed. "I-I don't want you to go beat him up, even if he does deserve it."

"Did you not here what the bastard said to you?" he seethed. "What he said was something even my own father would say in good company. I tried it once… have you ever had your mouth washed out magically with soap? It's not as pleasant as it sounds. The soap is charmed to keep foaming until the words we said are quite literally cleaned from out vocabulary."

Hermione giggled. "And what kind of words have you said when you were younger, Malfoy?"

He smirked. "Words that I don't even remember you don't need to know." Without warning, he brought his hand to the small of her back and brought her closer. She yelped and then dissolved into a chorus of laughter. "Your laugh should be a written symphony." He murmured into her neck. "On a lighter note… what is this talk about the Room of Requirement. I hope it wasn't a ploy to stop me from beating the shit out of your friend."

"It was."

"Mhm."

"Did it work?"

"You have intrigued me." he paid her that. "Now, tell me what your diabolical plan is. I want to hear all the nasty little details that you were so keen to share. Do not leave anything out."

Suddenly, there was something that he wanted to do. Bringing his hands to her cheeks again, he looked into her eyes with clear devotion and loyalty.

"You are a beautiful girl, Hermione Granger." He breathed, forgetting what they were talking about for a moment. "So much so that I'll be damned if I let anyone else see that. Those fuckers only care about one thing and that's…" he shook his head and looked deep into her eyes. "You know I would never intentionally hurt you, right?"

"I-"

"It's alright if you don't believe me," his voice was laced with the pain of the last five years. "I just want you to know that I will never hurt you. I can't say I won't make you upset, but you have my word that I would never do anything that would put you in harm's way."

It was a promise he was willing to keep.

* * *

From the moment she began to speak, she had him captivated. Never did he think that pulling the mystery of the Room of Requirement could be as easy as it was dangerous. He hung onto every word that she spoke, mesmerized by the haven of travelers. She told him of how it changed scenery, and how it held the capability to change people. It could be anything that one wanted, and Draco hoped it would become exactly what they needed.

His eyes remained on her as they walked aimlessly down the corridor. The previous scene played before him in coordination to his steps. Hermione had let what transpired on the second floor go some time ago, saying that they had business to attend to. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the entire truth. The thing was, he did have something that needed his attention but it wasn't what she thought it was. He backtracked down the corridor hurriedly. His breathes came in hollowed, mistrusted pants. He was running, but not out of fear or cowardliness but tardiness. He had an appointment with Fate.

He could see the elation in her eyes every time she spoke of it. They would light up like tiny Muggle fireworks (which were nothing compared to Wizard Fireworks). Her enthusiasm was contagious and he held onto every possibility of getting infected.

They spent a great deal of time together. All about any previous affair was forgotten, but one inked reminder remained.

"I have been talking to someone." she admitted to him only a shortly after they began to walk. He followed closely behind her, hanging onto her every word. It was an odd thing to bring up, surely. What made matters worse was that he knew what she was talking about but he couldn't visibly show it. He remained ever quiet. "Silly, really. To have someone I never met write me out of the blue. He was so mysterious and generous with his concern. He still is, mind you. I've just never met anyone so genuine and sincere before. I wonder who it is."

Wonder who it is, indeed.

The girl could only daydream and lollygag about who her admirer was. Draco was in no rush to expel whatever tyrant claim she had; he had enough on his plate as it was and time was only a burden at the present moment.

Instead of answering, he took her hand and squeezed it. "Whoever it is, Granger, I'm sure that they are more than grateful that they met your acquaintance. Anyone is better than that prick Weaslebee." He told her some time later.

"You think so?"

"I know so." He picked her hand up and pressed a kiss against the delicate skin of her wrist. "I'm sure anyone would risk getting kicked out of school just to defend you."

"Oh, you would do anything to him, will you?" she asked nervously. "I know what you saw wasn't pleasant but I would hate to see him get hurt."

What he did see was atrocious and should be expelled from his mind. Alas, once he saw it, he couldn't turn a blind eye to it; it was a universal fact that he longed to fix.

"Nah," he said, defeated. "As much as I would like to ring his little neck and feed him to the Giant Squid, I suppose my girlfriend wouldn't appreciate that, hm?"

"Girlfriend?" she asked, an eyebrow quirked. "Am I now your girlfriend?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he breathed.

With one fluid motion, Hermione launched herself into Draco's arms. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Yes," she sighed, aching.

Soundlessly, he held her. It was only a few seconds later that he spoke and he whispered.

"There are far worse things that I would like to do to him besides calling him what I have in mind." He warned her smoothly. "What he said… Gods, I can't begin to tell you just how disgusting he is."

"Well, he was irrational."

"Irrational isn't the word for it, darling."

"All boys are like that…"

"No, they are not." He corrected her on her mistaken view on the entire male population. It wasn't her fault that she had this foolish notion of boys. No one was there to teacher her for the love of Merlin. He stepped in and gave her a piece of his mind, however. "In fact, there still remain some quite reputable men out there. All you need to know is where to find them."

Draco hurried down the corridor, placed his hands in his pockets and carried on as if he said nothing that would draw any more attention to him than he already had. For Merlin's sake, the girl was staring the boy that was sending her all those blasted letters and Sparrows and she didn't even know it!

Quite bright for her age, he would always give her that. But, there were several things that he left out that she would never be able to trace back.

First, he never wrote in his true handwriting. He found a very useful charm a few years back when his handwriting was anything less than stellar. He used it for a good part of his second year and eventually grew to not need it. His Professors were impressed that they could finally read his atrocious writing. He even got an Outstanding just for the improved cursive.

But, he was getting ahead of himself. When it came to writing Hermione, he referred back to his old writing. He was so enamored and dedicated to sending the letters to Hermione that he even began writing in a style that truly was not his own. He enjoyed a good poem or two every now and then but his overindulgence in a language and text had recently gotten him quite a pickle the last month or so by his peers. Theo and Blaise were shamefully uncontrollable; every time he would sit down and write, the two of them would appear out of nowhere and start poking fun at his work. It was truly embarrassing and unprofessional of them. He had to take his yearning for the more aggressive art platform elsewhere.

Needless to say, he gave himself word that he would never write another letter in their presence ever again and has kept his word to this very day. The two of them were dreadful.

Not only did he change the appearance of his handwriting and punctuated a more than friendly vibe, he chose subjects that would work her mind. Hermione was a beast of a witch and would devour anything and everything that she got her hands on. Which is why he chose such strong subjects; her inquisitive mind did the rest. From History to the dead Latin Language, he captured her intrigue; there was very little that the witch didn't find passion in. She was a world of her own.

Draco wasn't fond of playing with a witch, but his past would beg to differ. Those witches didn't matter; they were just another notch in his bedpost that stared back at him through the light of the moon and that's what they'll ever be. He didn't need to keep pushing his plough in a girl so dead and lifeless that they literally drew his soul and heart long after the final climax. He needed someone engaging and that was what Hermione was. She was boundless; like a storm after the clam and the punishing effects of the currents, she kept going. That was why he was so dead set on showing Weasley a piece of his mind.

The couple strolled down the quiet mere that had become the corridor. Their passive reception toward one another became just only that- passing. Neither of them seemed to know what to say and by the time they made it down the corridor and up another flight of stairs, one of them had finally broken.

He didn't realize just how deep his words struck until he sensed that she wasn't following him. Draco came to a halt, stopped and turned around, facing the discouraged Gryffindor.

Hermione was staring at him.

"What?"

"What you said," she started and his heart skipped a beat.

After all this damn time, she finally came to realize something about what he said wasn't right?

Sweet, Jesus!

Had he accidently told her something that he shouldn't have?

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he looked at her with the same bored expression that he gave everyone else. Anticipation coursed through his veins. He couldn't let all his hard work fall through the cracks just yet.

"You said that there are still good guys out there," she whispered, eyes wide.

"And?" he asked, irritated as he tried to hold onto the last bit of control he had. "If you don't think so, then drop it. We have class in a few minutes and-"

"No," she shook her head slowly. "It's not that I don't believe it."

"Then what?"

"Do you really think there are some noble boys out there?" she said in a low whisper. "That they would want me for me and not for m-my body?"

She was thinking about what Weaslebee said.

With a sigh, Draco turned to her and said," Of course. Not every boy is like that prick, Granger. There still exist boys who cherish the old ways of chivalry.

"How do you know?"

"I know, alright?" he chuckled a little at her need to know. "What do you think?"

"Well, I think that I see where you are coming from." She smiled. "I mean, if you can change from the boy you once were then I guess that there are some good guys out there, yes?"

"I suppose…" he gulped, turning his head as she circled around him, appraise in her eyes. "Anyone can change, Granger."

"Sure, but it takes a courageous man to change for the better." Her hands drew around his neck and before he knew it his lips were pressed against hers and he had her against the wall. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and by the time their frenzied collision slowed down, they were both panting and their eyes were heavy with lust. "You are a courageous man, Draco."

He looked down at her as her legs fell from his waist. Her arms remained locked around his neck.

"Courageous?" He wanted to laugh. Truly, he did but he couldn't. Not with Hermione looking up at him so expectedly. "Pinning a hopeless witch against the wall isn't courage, Granger. I very well may be tricking you."

"You wouldn't trick me." She insisted.

"Who knows," he shrugged, letting her go. "What Weaslebee said about me hit some pretty low notes. I'm not a noble man, Hermione. Nor will I ever be."

His breathing became heavy. How can someone like Hermione get to him? How can she affect him to damn profoundly that he found himself questioning every little thing? Sure, she was no Goddess and even if he did believe in a higher power, he would think that the Gods were playing a trick on him. Why send someone like her to taunt and tease him? Did they not know how things were going to end for them? They were star-crossed lovers, thrown into a world where both their ranks were feuding and there was no peace or middle ground. They could not be, not with the power that was held above their heads. Not when the Dark Lord was so damn close to infringing upon everything that they believed in. They were utterly lost and physically powerless.

"There are things about me that you would soon loath if you were ever to find out about." He gulped thin, his lips drawing into a thin line. His forearm burned; he wasn't supposed to be speaking of anything in relation to what he had to do. Not that he was stupid enough to divulge anything. "Things that would no doubt make you rethink your opinion of me."

In the several seconds it took for her to register what he just said, Draco had forced himself to keep moving. He had no idea where his mind was taking him; all he knew was that he wanted to escape and that the rising hiss of the scorched skin of his forearm was anything but an indicator as how precious time really was to him. He needed to make progress tonight. He had to. What better way than to woo the girl that held everything that he could possible ever want and need?

"You still haven't told me about this room." He said, switching the conversation back to her and her intriguing deployment. "Where is this infamous Room of Requirement and why haven't I ever heard about it?"

"Don't act so modest, Malfoy." She said, catching up to her. She looked like a lost puppy trying to run after its owner. It was rather cute. "After all, you and your little friends stumbled upon it just last term. The members are still angry about you finding us."

Draco had to think hard to recollect what little memory that he was able to hold onto. Nothing much seemed to have survived and he did vaguely remember catching the little twerps in the act. After months, he had finally caught them.

A smirk caressed his lips. "Oh, yes. I remember that."

"You weren't very fond of remembering it a second ago."

"It's something that isn't easily forgotten," he dismissed as he slowed his pace as to allow her to keep in step with him. "For a witch so short yet domineering, you sure do walk slow."

"Excuse me?" she let out a refutable gasp. "If you're trying to flirt with me-"

"Is it working?"

"I think not," she admitted a bit bitterly. "It's quite atrocious, really. Are these the sort of lines you've used on other girls?" she asked.

"Is the Room down this way," he asked, distracted. "I remember it being this way."

"Draco."

"Or, perhaps-"

"Draco."

Draco stopped walking, a somber frown spreading across his features. He turned and then said," Alright, fine." He said, giving up. "They answer is no, and it's not because they wouldn't give me the time of day either. It was a mutual companionship where both parties cared about only one thing."

"You mean?"

He nodded.

"Oh…" she said softly before letting the conversation drop dead upon its own weight.

A subject like this would be difficult to talk about with any newly formed relationship. Draco just wished it had come later rather than sooner. The thought of her thinking any less than she already did broke down at his heart and ate up his insides. He was less than saintly, he knew that. For someone as relatively safe and free from the contaminant of hormones and constant deprivation, Hermione was angle compared to his demonic form. She was untouched whereas he was tainted. He didn't think he could even stand by her side without risking his fifth mingling with her pureness, but Hermione begged to differ. She grabbed his hand and gave a nice, hard squeeze. He words almost brought him to his knees.

"It's not something I'm proud of, Hermione." He said, his voice tight. "I was a fool. A coward."

"You hardly seem like the person who would lose control."

"But, I am." His rememberance was a harsh reality that he soon wished to forget. "There are weaknesses all around us. I just so happened to be weak against women who would have done anything that I desired."

"You know I don't care about that stuff," her eyes showed that she did not. "All I care about is you. That you're taken care of, that what you think about yourself resembles what you are on the outside."

"And, what is that?" he managed to bite out.

"A changed man." She smiled. "I've known you for five years. I don't think that you would do anything out of spite unless you had no other choice. You bullied people because you have been bullied by someone else. This constant turmoil and pulling would have driven anyone to drastic exercise. You just so happened to take it out on people that didn't deserve a single ounce of your anger. Though, I can see why you did it…"

"You're afraid and that's alright." She told him, her amber eyes glowing with the intensity of a dying candle. Brilliant, everlasting. Gods, it was hard not to fall into their depths. "Your courage makes up for it."

Draco took control of his breathing and looked down at Hermione. Her amber eyes glowed with more intensity that he ever remembered them holding. Her words were true; but, she was fighting something. Fighting them, fighting what they both ought to be worried about. Whatever was happening between them, it was probably then that he finally chose what he wanted to do.

"What do I know about bravery, you sill girl?" he reached out and cupped her cheeks. "You and your bloody preaching about courage. Have you ever stopped to think that some people are purely what their Houses proclaim? Cunning, resourceful, ambitious- that is me. Courageous, brave, determined- that is you. What traits do we share?"

Hermione looked into his eyes and for a moment he became lost. "The colors or significance of our Houses aren't what defines us. It's what we feel on the inside that truly matters."

Spoken like a proper Gryffindor. It hurt him deeply.

"Hermione," he said weakly, "I am no courageous man, but I'm willing to do something so unbelievably foolish just to prove to myself and you that I can be what you want."

"What are you going to do?"

He looked at her and smiled. That was all he could do, especially when he gave her his word that he wouldn't do anything drastic or stupid.

He was going to fight.

"A providing spirit."

* * *

He stood in enclave of the corridor.

His black eyes rested on their young embrace.

Severus had followed his Godson with the disillusioned attempted to get him alone, and now the time had finally come, there was something that he need to speak to him about.

The Dark Lord was becoming impatient. Draco's task should have started earlier than this and although he can't say that he is pleased about the slow development, at least the fool made some kind of progress with Miss Granger. Soon, he suspected, Draco will be able to do what the Dark Lord requests of him. What he needed was time to allow him to go to the Room of Requirement and find the cabinet before the Dark Lord develops a taste for entertainment. There was only a small chance of time before then and he will not be held off much longer. He was becoming irrational with anticipation and hurried reception.

With a swirl of his dark robes, Severus vanished, his arm burning with fiery rage.

* * *

 **A/N:** After, Gods, a month of stress and having to put off updating all my stories, I FINALLY, F-I-N-A-L-L-Y found the time to write. What I have to do for school are Practicals. They are just like tests and it's so damn nerve-racking because it's what I have to do for the Board. Everything has to be right. You can't forget anything and if you do, you're out of luck. And guess who forgot to take out her end papers during the chemical part of the Practical? ME! D:

-sigh-

._.

Note: 2,000+ words have been added to this .-. I didn't mean to, but the way that I was writing chapter eight, it felt as if it were better suited for chapter seven. If y'all know what I mean. Next chapter I wanted to show an exchange between Snape and Draco, so~

Anyway... this is unedited, as always (lol). I'm going to go back and edit everything this weekend.

Hopefully, I'll see y'all on Oct 3 :) Oct 4 is my birthday and we're going to Japanese Steakhouse :D (Your lovely Author's favorite food in the world) :3 I'll be 21 this year (Anyone want shots?)

I may actually need some this seven weeks... =D

-Carolare Scarletus


	9. Place of Refuge

**_A/N down below._**

 _ **Warning:** personal discussion ahead._

 _As always, enjoy_

* * *

 _.~._

 _Let it Burn_

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Place of Refuge_

 _.~._

* * *

 **Wednes** **day September 25** **th** **, 1996**

Draco stared at the envelope until dawn broke over the horizon. Its content remained a mystery until his better recollection got the best of him and his mind demanded that he look inside. He knew without question that whatever it was it couldn't be good and that it was written in his handwriting. He knew the questions he would ask, the sneering voice he would make, and the disapproval that would be laced around his words. He has heard it so many times that he became slightly accustomed to receiving the letters; he could almost hear his father's desperate voice through the curves of the letters and his mother's frantic inquiries about his health. Most of all, he could hear them and their pleas as they tried to reason with him.

Time was wearing unbearably thin.

The air was conspiring against him, becoming an unbearable weight upon his shoulders. Crisp, channeling, and forbidden, it beckoned to even the numbest of senses. It restricted what valuable oxygen that his body was able to get, filling him with toxins that just would expel from his body. Deep in the catacombs of his mind, he couldn't let go of the night's events that transpired just hours before. He was lost in a time loop, forever blessed to live the last few hours like a drifter in the wind. With all his being, he hoped that the memories wouldn't become lost to him and he would be able to hold onto something that would allow him to go about his days as numbly as he has been since months prior.

Oh, yes. The months have not been kind to him. Ever since the end of last term, he's been stuck in perpetual darkness and worry. The guilt, the heart pleading guilty and nausea has been all he has known. He can't remember the last time he's been free of anything, of being watched, of being able to do as he pleased and go about his day without trepidation and care. His movements since then has not been his own and whatever he's been able to keep had to be recruited and transformed into something it was not. It was all consuming. Maddening, really. The only thing that he could account for was the simple fact that he was well on his way to something extraordinary, and in the grasp of something fiercely refined.

Draco looked back at the concealed letter, hoping that he would find some answers within the pages. He knew his mother could write tomes filled with her activities and transient musings; his father on the other hand was a different story, and not something he wanted to hear at a moment like this.

Instead, he allowed his mind to pull away from him. The letter remained on his desk until he came up with enough courage. Until then, it would remain there and hopefully he would have something good to report back.

Which he did.

Draco turned from looking at his bed and back to the letter. He would have to tell them that he found the Room. Mother would be absolutely livid with gratitude and father would find some resemblance to pride at the news of his son finding what their Lord has been searching for months now. The twin to his cabinet; yes, he would be very pleased to hear it.

There had been a time when he had to close everything that he experienced off, to lock it away as to ensure their safety. It was times like this that made him glad that he had lost them, that he hadn't allowed the ruining effects of evil to touch them. What she had shown him was the sweetest thing he has ever seen and has become one of the most amazing memories he has to date. Not a lot could compare, and as fearful as he was, he was ready to see what sort of lands that she could create next. It had been mind-blowing. He was beside himself with complete astonishment that it tricked him into believing that he was new to magic and that it was the first time he had every witnessed such a thing.

He lay on his bed, pondering what he had just saw and what he could do to protect it and the girl that gave him one more reason to live and to fight.

He couldn't get over the magnificence of the place. For something like the Room of Requirement to be created in such a way that it tailored everyone's deepest desires was the most amazing thing he has ever heard. He could still see her. He leaned back in his chair as he watched her reach out and caress every curve and swollen object that came within her reach. There was a type of hypnotic trance about it. Like floating on air, high above the clouds while at the same time attempting to grasp the fear of falling. It was breathtaking. Heart-stopping. In that moment, he had decided that nothing was more beautiful than seeing her and the world that she had created.

If the eyes could become bewitched, then soul would soon follow.

They had walked the deserted but groundbreaking corridors of Hogwarts in silence. The only thing that kept them afloat was the breathless sighs that issued from her lips and his never wavering gaze that easily became transfixed on her movements. Hermione moved with fluid motion previously unknown to man. Like a sweet current, she rocked her body rhythmically to the strum of her own violin, too preoccupied to notice that he had stopped following and was watching her from a distance. He, too, became absorbed, but not with their surroundings but the girl who could effortlessly captivate him with even the smallest of gestures. She was a goddess with every sense of the word, and he couldn't wait to see what sort of dance she would present him in the interim.

He never took his eyes off of her. Hermione's hand was warm in his. He relished in the touch and the thought of it dispersing sooner than he wished was a sickness upon his weakened mind. He frowned at the thought, looking at their entwined fingers while at the same time fearing what would come after their rendezvous. Even when they turned a corner and broke into a run when the sound of Ms. Norris' purring echoed in the corridor, his eyes remained solely on her. It was hypnotic to watch her. She moved with grace; she was everything that he wished he could be and more. How she did, he couldn't say. All he knew what that he never wanted to look away. Not even for a moment.

Conversation was becoming more natural between them. There was no topic left untouched. As they walked, she engaged him in whimsical explorations. She fiddled with mind like one would fiddle with an instrument. Experimentally at first until the notes began to fill her mind and she was able to pry a kind of resemblance to music that she was dying to hear. He became lost to her. Mind-blowingly smitten once again by how easy it was for her to turn him. It was not like all those other times where he lost his temper and he had to face the reality of what he had done. She was gentle, like the kind of zephyr he wanted to feel every second of the rest of his life.

What he told her about being a providing spirit was not a lie. In fact, it could not further from the truth. She had opened up so much, let him see a side of her that no one else was able to see. Like a flower, she embellished him with her nectar. She showed and told him things that would never have crossed his mind if their paths hadn't crossed in turn. If he hadn't reached out and showed her that there were good people out there in the void that she wouldn't dare to explore, he would not be with her today.

"It's just down this corridor," she told him, her voice no louder than a whisper.

Draco looked at her, caught between keeping quiet or ruining a perfect moment.

A perfect moment for them, or for him, he wasn't quite sure. Granted, he was thrilled that she was able to trust him enough to show him her special place. Not people could say they've had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with him, and those who have were not worth a moment of hs time now. He was ecstatic but fearful. On the other hand, he felt tainted, devastatingly cruel to have manipulated her in such a way that forced her to give up her secrets. He didn't know to be delighted or to throw up.

Instead, he chose not to reply.

Hermione was a perceptive young woman, however. She was able to see through his demeanor and pick him apart like a dissected Niffler. That's what one got for having a genius as a girlfriend…

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyes widen with concern. "Is it something I said?"

He shook his head, remaining silent. How easily she could pinpoint when something was amiss. He had to hand it to her, she was quite spot on. If he talked now he might as well tell her everything that has happened in the last several months and Circe knows that he wasn't ready for that. Not now, and possibly not ever. All he wanted to do was listen to her voice. She could easily talk enough for the both of them.

"It's nothing."

But, why did it mean something?

She took it as a que to continue, to pry. "Are you sure?"

He nodded numbly, holding his tongue and forbidding his lips to move. If it hadn't been the reassuring squeeze of her hand on his, the innocent little smile and simplicity of the briefest nudge against his shoulders, his lips would have betrayed him. Thankfully, they hadn't. And that was a blessing all in itself.

"You know, you have become less talkative." Hermione looked at him. "It makes me wonder if I really have said something to offend you."

As silence fell between them, Draco was left to the shattering discourse of his thoughts.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep up with the charade. The longer he played, the more he fell into the influence of the Dark Lord. Days and nights mingled together into one jumbled mess, creating and endless loop that even Apparition couldn't break. He was a fixed, continuous player in the life and death game of chess, forever cursed until another piece captures and breaks him down. He walked without direction and only with the guidance provided by the witch beside him whose own audacity and stupidity could cost her life. It was that and his selfishness that would do the ungodly honors of killing them both.

Draco took the chance to look at her. It was in these private moments that he was able to fully appreciate her, even when she was completely unaware of his gawks and stares. Her hair was a fragmented mess, though he couldn't understand how it got so windblown. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and there was the slightest hint of an approved smile on her lips that demanded his attention. If he didn't know any better, he would say that she was hiding something herself. With unapprised planning or simple contemplation, he wasn't sure but he would give her the world just to know what she was thinking, and it was apparent she would do the same as his gaze met hers and he saw the plea in her eyes.

She was pleading with him. To tell her what was going through his mind even though he knew damn well he should even breathe a word of what was torturing him or lest he receive a hundred days of beatings. He would suffer honorable for her, but that was not his intention this night. Tonight, he planned to savor every moment she gave him before he had to lock them up and become devoid of life once more.

He could still hear the words of his Godfather during their first meeting echoing in his mind…

 _ **-Add more-**_

" _Worthless," he hissed bitterly._

 _Professor Snape slammed his pupil into the wall before backing away in complete disapproval. Shadows danced around them. Their haunting reminder was why they were there. For hours they had been at it, and it was finally then at past midnight that the Potion's Master had finally had enough. He walked away from where he left Draco, his eyes glittering in the darkness. What he had seen had been a private moment, granted. But, it was exactly that he was trying to protect._

 _Obviously, he thought he was foolish._

 _He was going to have to work harder to ensure that his Oath and life were not wasted. The boy was going to learn._

" _In all my years," he began slowly, drifting over to the furthest corner of the room to where he laid an assortment of healing potions," had to be the worst example of closing one's mind. Why is that, Mr. Malfoy?"_

" _You didn't say you were going-"_

" _The Dark Lord will not stand there and tell you when he is about to invade your mind," he seethed, thrusting several bottles into his arms and walking back, his eyes watching him as he looked at the bottles doubtfully. "Drink!"_

 _Snape whipped around without giving him a single glance. He could feel the tension build between them with merciless progression. If he didn't show any signs of improvement or endurance, he would have proven his unworthiness to do the task that their Lord has given him._

 _He would have failed his family._

" _I must advise you," he said rather softly, an uncharacteristic gesture on his part," to close your mind even to the smallest of interactions."_

" _You want me to become some brainless lunatic." Draco deadpanned._

" _I did not say that." He pronounced each word with long, deliberate strokes. "I merely advised you to-"_

" _I know what you said!" he seethed, rising from his position on the floor and walking over to the open veranda on the adjourning side of the Potion's Master's chambers. Inside, he could very well see the labors of his ways. Small clusters of orbs say planted in darkened soil, making him wonder exactly what he was harvesting, if he was harvesting anything at all. These thoughts helped significantly to silence what diminutive thought that patrolled his mind._

 _He could feel his Godfather's eyes on him and he bit his lip._

" _You act like it's the easiest thing in the world to do."_

" _Do you want to protect the girl?" he drawled, the knowledge of not understanding his passion clear in the depths of his eyes. "If so, you will do as I say."_

" _Do you think it's just that easy?" he asked, shaking with anger. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to just shut down these thoughts and act as if they don't exist? To act like the girl you love doesn't exist?"_

 _Draco found the error of his accusation a second too late. Before he had time to act, he was pressed against the wall, a strong arm pressing against his chest, dark eyes seeping into his. He had struck a nerve with him._

" _Do not talk to me about how hard it is, boy." He seethed. "You do not know what true hardship is."_

This memory was just another added burden upon his conscious. That night had dragged on forever and before either of them knew it, dawn had come to pass. They were weathered down, and by the time they crawled out of his chambers, they had come to a startling conclusion and had indeed made some considerable progress. He had been able to close his mind, and with the help of Snape, he was able to retain what he was scared to lose.

But, it wasn't the only thing that he left with.

In his possession was an object that had him too afraid to speak. The object itself was forged from sea foam green opals the precise age and grandeur of ripened stone. Harvested from the deepest reached, it had been fastened in such a manner that gave it the illusion of sophistication and luxury. Heavy to the touch as well as light as a feather when worn, the necklace was the epitome of corruption and the bane of his existence.

Since receiving it, Draco has been speculating its almighty power. Drowning in dread, he has been unable to decipher its meaning and what the Dark Lord could possibly want him to do with the ancient necklace. Taking another look at Hermione, he couldn't bring himself to even think about all the horrible things that he planned for him to do; even if he could, he had to protect her.

At all costs.

"It should be just around the corner." Hermione said as she led him down the same corridor twice already and they were well on their way to passing the same set of painting when she touched his arm and yanked him closer to her. Without a sound, she placed a finger on her lips and indicated to the wall in front of them. He looked at her like she was mad, completely convinced as she whipped her around and waited for the sky to fall, which it did not.

Instead, the ground began to shake.

Then the walls roared to life. It started with a great rumbling that moved from the ground, through the sharp corners of where they stood, and finally the ceiling. The paintings on the walls were disturbed, some exclaiming their anguish while others cursed under their swollen breaths. A canvas of a calm sea surged into a powerful onslaught and the earth felt as if it were just seconds away of splitting apart. Every ounce of his being was held on edge and there was a mixture of anxiety and cautiousness that swam through him to likes of which he never felt. Though, he has been in some frightful situations and thus occasions have scarred him beyond repair, something as simple and comical as magic was far beyond his scope. He was at war and the splitting and noise was the ammo that would kill him.

Draco was in the midst of a panic attack. Having never really been previously exposed to such highly controversial emotions, he didn't know what to do with them or how to expose of the world in which he believed was the firmest of deities. Some preconceived notions were bombarding him, threatening to wreak havoc on his life. Like a war drawn hero, he was having brutal flashbacks of things that he had absolutely no control of.

That's when Hermione chose to intervene. When his mind was running rampant, her gentle hand was enough to bring him back from the brink of total hysteria. Draco was wholeheartedly grateful for her. He suddenly found the strength to face whatever lay behind the moving walls that had to be the Room of Requirement. If it was not for the delicate state of his mind and the lack of reliance, he would have surely ran and never come back.

"You alright?" she asked, grabbing his hand and moving closer to the wall as two large doors came into view. "You don't look so well."

"I don't feel as such."

"Nightmares?"

"You can say that," he breathed, grabbing hold of her and bringing her closer to him. "These halls don't look familiar."

"Well, you did spend the good part of the term during our fifth year chasing us around trying to get a glimpse of it…"

"One simply doesn't remember all that they have done." He said, thinking. "I don't think I've apologized for that."

"You weren't in your right state of mind, Draco." She said softly, smiling. "Now, come on. There is something I want you to see. I've been trying to conjure it for some time."

"Is that part of the reason we've walked around in circles for the last hour?"

"Part of it."

"What have you been doing?" The urge to tease her was powerful and he couldn't resist it. With a grin, he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. "What could you possibly have thought of when showing me the room is good enough for me?"

Hermione moved around in his arms in an attempt to get a better look at him. When she did, she looked at him with those wide, caring eyes that he's loved for so long. He could stare into them until he was not of the world anymore; he was just that devoted, just that committed.

"Some people deserved to be shown care and doused in love." She told him simply. "Besides, while you and your little friends were running around off your character, you missed the bigger picture."

"Running around?" he smirked, feeding off her choice of words. "So, you were watching me, eh?"

She swatted him on the arm, giggling. "Never you mind."

"But, I do mind." He laughed before asking," What picture are you talking about?"

Hermione looked at him, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. She wanted to ask him something but was afraid how he would react, as to be expected. He hasn't been the most kind of people. Even in her company he would sometimes snap at her. She would just blow it off or ignore it, which bothered him greatly. How can she still be so kind when even he couldn't hold his tongue and be kind in return? That always eluded him.

"Do you remember what we were taught about the Room of Requirement?"

Quickly thinking, Draco began to go over everything that was taught about the room. There wasn't much to go on except that it resided on the seventh floor and stood opposite of a very interesting tapestry. Other than that, he couldn't remember much about it.

He wanted to tell her that he overheard Potter talking to her about it, that it was some magical gateway to paradise, if needed be. It could be anything the seeker wanted. So long as they had the thought and held onto it with all their heart, the room was everything and anything. He wished he could say that his intentions were pure, but he couldn't. It would have easily been a lie. Like lying to a child, he felt wrong to tell her that, so wrong in fact that his anxiety was becoming a burden once more. Somewhere along the line, he had convinced her otherwise of his worthiness and that broke him to pieces everything he thought about it. There wasn't a single deserving bone in his body and he bloody well knew that. Any moron with a half working brain could see that, and it tickled him senselessly that Hermione couldn't put two and two together. _What_ was her problem? How was it possible for her not to see it?

"You're absolutely right, you know." She smiled.

How can she be so jubilant when he was lying right to her bloody face? Her smile was what drew him back in. Every time he was pushed into the unreachable escape, she was there to bring him back. His mind cleared up and he was able to focus back on what she was saying.

"It's a wondrous place, I supposed." He shrugged nonchalantly, not giving her the pleasure of seeing past his façade despite how eager he was to see it.

 _One thing at a time,_ a voice said. He agreed.

As soon as he said those words, she broke down into a jumble of hypothetical equations. This sparked a frenzy of detailed description and open minded hope.

She told him of what she wanted him to see. The Room of Requirement wasn't just so named that, and she knew that with everything that she was worth. Evidently, she's been giving it a lot of thought and somewhere between wanting to show him and scared of what kind of reception she might get, she found the solution to her heartrending problems. She wanted to show him the magic of the place, the splendor and have him open up in way that he has never opened up. There was something inspiring about the way she told him about her ingenious plans, and something terrible frightening. While she talked, a dark shadow fell over him.

Thrice they have passed it, and in all that time she was trying to conjure up something that she knew that would pike his interest, that he would be interested and wholly appreciative for.

 _I see you, boy._

 _No_ , he thought quietly, Hermione's voice now a murmur in the background.

 _Oh, yes._

Whether it was his overactive mind or it was indeed the voice of the Dark Lord, he could not say. Either way, he felt that same strange sensation wrap around him as he tried to get a grip on reality. Sleep deprivation had not taken a toll on him physically, but mentally as well. He didn't know where up start and down ended; everything from the start of term has been a big, unrecognizable mess. He even had trouble making sense of things that he knew for certain that was happening. Real time, dream, nightmares- who was to say that he was in one now, tossing in his four-poster bed, screaming at the top of his lungs and begging for Hermione to run, to save herself while she could?

He looked at her, palms sweaty, a huge lump forming in his throat.

She looked so happy, so carefree. He winced at the sight. Yet another unanswered question popped up in his mind. He swatted it away before it could do any real damage.

He was trying to break into his mind. It was a good thing that he was prepared, or surely he would have succeeded. Draco showed him what he wanted to see and allowed him to listen to what he wanted to hear. Otherwise, their conversation was useless banter in the background, something that he could discard and still keep at a moment's notice. Instead of focusing on his presence, he engaged Hermione, hoping it would hinder the Dark Lord's attempt to reach his mind even more. The doors were just finally taking form, which hindered him even more. The words that he had tried to fabricate died on his lips, and his eyes found a new focus.

Twin doors the size of the walls came slowly into contact. It was like watching a moving picture with the sound all the way up but being too engrossed with the picture to even care. They welcomed him, as he was sure he would welcome them once he knew what lay on the other side. He was apprehensive; he was sure that he hadn't shared enough about himself to warrant her attention. Well, even if he didn't, he knew that she would be able to pull what he has told her and present himself truly amazing.

And, she did.

The scent of flowers struck him before their physical state did. The doors opened and he stepped inside, expecting a small array only to be escorted to what he could only what was a small fortune of a garden. The floor was abundant with lush grass, and as far as the room was concerned, thousands of flowers lay sprawled out on the neatly manicured carpet, small troves of mushrooms sprouted out here and there. Once in a while, a small gnome would pop its head out and greeted them before dashing away in fear that they would use them as a ball to play with. Old cabinets were lined up against the glassed walls, vines clinging to their isolated form. Iron gates ran the perimeter of the enclosure, inside as a stream the size of a small pool.

Although quaint in its simplicity, it spoke volumes. He became aware of a time when he told her about his deepest secret, to which she responded with questions and hounding results. He had laughed at her, of course. For someone with a mind like hers, he found it so amusing that she would try to educate him to something he already knew all too well. Malfoy's weren't into the sort of things that he had grown to enjoy. Much to his mother's liking he had acquired a strong taste for the indigestible. His father was not all too happy. He stomped most of what his mother taught him, only living a fraction of the wonders that she had introduced him to. One of which, it seemed, Hermione had made a reality.

Draco walked around, his eyes wide. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" he asked, voice wavering. He sounded completely different. Surprised, oh yes. Desperate to know what she could have possibly wanted to come of this, most definitely. He turned and looked at her, completely at awe. He couldn't quite believe that the girl standing before him had anything to do with the sort of enchantment that had taken place. Thrice they passed the Room. Thrice she had time to reflect on what she wanted to create.

Hermione brought her hands behind her back, a smile on her lips, her eyes combing the room and laughing as a butterfly landed on her shoulder.

"You told me that you had a garden back home. Your mother didn't have much of a green thumb and your father, forgive his hateful soul, despised flowers of any variety." She took a breath, centering herself. "I wanted to recreate that garden you had. Even if it was the eastern center of the-"

Draco silenced her with a hug.

His arm came around and it was all she needed to know that he was eternally grateful for the world that she was able to create.

* * *

He walked around in a complete daze for over an hour. For the longest time, he didn't allow anything to obscure his view on the indoor garden until Hermione came around, finished with feeding the birds that came to reside in the cozy little heaven. She stood up from the grass, dusted herself off, and made her way over to the stream where she pulled out her wand and proceeded to make refreshments from the natural spring. Cool crystal clear waters turned into two steaming cups of coffee. The cakes were from normal creation, which he was happy to partake in either way.

As he leaned against his arm

"You know we won't be able to do this for long," she said with a slight giggle. "People may think we're up to something."

"We most definitely are." He said, eyes still searching her form. "Let them think whatever the bloody hell they want."

"Don't you care?"

"What people think?" He gave her one of his infamous smirks. "Of course, but that isn't the point."

"Then what is?"

"I enjoy spending time with you, Hermione." He breathed. "You give me life that I never realized I was missing. Just like this room, you make the air I breathe crisper. You are the kind of refreshing rain I've been searching all this time."

Hermione stared at him, overcome with some raw emotion that she never knew she could feel. "I like spending time with you, too." she murmured. "You're different from the image that you project. You're gentle, kind and incredibly insightful."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I'm being serious." She frowned at his cockiness.

"I know you are, "he laughed. "Relax."

Hermione shook her head laughing herself. Though it was at her expense, she found funny and that was all that mattered.

"I do have a question, though." When she said nothing, he carried on with his inquest. It had been bothering him since the beginning of their courtship. Sure, the letters he received were well enough, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that there wasn't something she wasn't telling him. He didn't like secrets; that didn't mean he would keep his own from him, either. His untrustworthiness hadn't been detected and his was just being mended. Not a lot of Slytherins could say that about their Gryffindors. Although it was other guise, jealousy was a horrendous thing and he would soon pay the Dark Lord's snake a visit then have to deal with something he's never felt before. So, thus his need to know was born.

"What is it?"

"That guy, the one who's been sending all those letters. What happened to him?"

She tilted her head and thought back to the last time he sent a letter. It had only been two nights ago, he knew. He was expecting a reply shortly. Even if he spent the entire day with her, Draco was inclined to sit by his window and wait until her blasted owl came by to drop it off. He was just that ardent and foolish. If there was a place to sit, there was no telling how long he would wait just to hear word from her.

"The letter guy?" she asked, dumbstruck that he would bring it up of all time. Hell, he was surprised himself but he had to know.

Was his handwriting that obvious? Had he said something that would clue her in on who it was that has been sending her the letters? He needed to know.

"I… I still talk to him"

She sounded so conflicted. Even if there was a chance that she found someone who was more suited to her, she wouldn't go off and leave him in the dust, would she? Draco couldn't think of any instance that would prepare him for rejection; it wasn't something he has ever had to deal with and he didn't want to know what it would feel like if the girl he loved ran off to be with someone else. He was sure he would be thrown in a rampage. He would be resentful toward Hermione, angry at the boy who dared try to break them apart. Jealousy was another thing he never had to deal with. He wasn't too sure what that felt like, but every time he looked at Hermione, he felt a pang in his chest and his hands instantly balled up. If jealousy was anything like wanting to throw them off the top of the Quidditch towers, then he found his mark. He was jealous of himself!

"Was just curious." He shrugged. "Last time we talked about him, you wouldn't say much about him."

"You're jealous." She deadpanned.

He almost choked on his pastry. "W-what?" he coughed up a lump of crumbly cake and spite into onto his napkin. "W-what did you just say?"

She reached on and patted him on the back. "You heard me. Unless, of course, your cockiness has gotten to your head already."

There was a retort playing on the tip of his tongue but he chose not to say it. Instead, he asked," What brought you to that bloody conclusion?"

"Well," she bit her lip, making sure he was alright before confessing some secret he knew that she was keeping from him," I've been talking to him longer than I have been talking with you. I thought you wouldn't be too keen with me talking with him, although I still don't know who he is."

"You haven't gone around and compared handwriting, have you?"

"Not yet," she teased with a little smirk. "No, I haven't. Still, whoever he was, he came out of nowhere and offered a friendly hand. I only wish he would come out and tell me who he is so I can thank him. He's been really sweet."

"Sounds like a keeper."

"So, you don't mind?"

"I don't care who you talk to, Granger,"

Shit.

He only used her surname when he was pissed or hiding something. Fortunately, she still hadn't figured it out. It was for the best because he was nowhere close to revealing his identity, especially when he was just one step close to getting what he truly wanted.

She made herself comfortable once more, all the while, Draco began to wonder exactly what he had been thinking and if she truly had read between the lines.

* * *

The Marauder's Map laid spread out on his sheets, his chin rested just above the swell of the fifth floor corridor. He had been watching their engagement, curious to see them together when Slytherins and Gryffindors were not scheduled to patrol on Wednesdays. At first, he didn't think much of it because they were Prefects, now, he believed, he was just beginning to see past Hermione's dismissiveness.

There was something going on between them.

If it wasn't for them vanishing off the map entirely, he would have guessed Malfoy was up to something as childish as teasing her, but that wasn't the case. No one just disappears from the map or go through the walls unless they were a ghost or walking around searching for something that shouldn't be searching for. They were not dead; their names never reappeared on the other side of the shared wall, perfectly intact and only one thing could have prevented their voyage.

He was thinking of the Room of Requirement, of course. Of all people he knew the room could turn into anything it was desired for it to be. How Draco had come to know that was what was troubling him. Had he bullied Hermione into telling him, abducted her so he could draw out his little plan? Threatened not to take off points in exchange for her corporation. Whatever his father was making him do was an increasing sort of interest that became the object of his obsession. Ron knew it; Hermione knew it. Whatever they had seen at Knockturn ally wasn't something that could easily be forgotten. Malfoy had been shopping for an object, keen on getting it repaired at the cost of his life. Which, at this point, seemed more plausible that all his other theories.

The worst began to play in the back of his mind and it took closing them to stop them from creating a solid image in the forefront where everything he dreamt had a funny way of coming to fruition.

For now, he would keep an eye on her.

Godric knew that Hermione could use it since she would never fall face first into the hands of pure evil.

* * *

 **A/N:**

If a time came that God chose to test me, it was in that moment. He decided to throw me this hurtle that, in his name willing, thought I would be able to jump over and not falter where I stood. There is absolutely no way of foretelling any event and to have this come so unexpectedly, and have to say I was completely _devastated_ when I was told the news. I was able to celebrate my birthday with no trouble; my brother proposed to his girlfriend a few weeks later. It seemed that life was just moving forward as expected until this one thing threatened to destroy everything.

On the night of the twenty-fourth, we brought my dog into the vet hoping that what she was experiencing could be fixed and cured only to come to find out that what she had, which was autoimmune disease, was treatable. Which was perfectly good news to me. She was put on a blood transfusion and her prospects of surviving were good. More than good in my mind. The days past slowly. There wasn't a moment during class that I didn't stop to think about her. It was all that I could think about. Mind you, I had thought about the chances that I may have to say goodbye to my best friend and I was perfectly fine with that. I just didn't think it would happen. She was the strongest puppy I knew. She had her moments where she would lose weight and gain it back, but never did anything remotely close to what she got crossed my mind. It was just so overwhelming to find what was causing her to suffer. The next step was to wait and pray.

Unfortunately, the blood transfusion didn't take and the vet told us that if it didn't take the first time, it would not take the second.

I came home from school on October 26th with blissful optimism. It didn't occur to me then when I noticed a miss call from my mom that something had gone wrong. But, long and behold, she told me the news and that was we would have to put Lexi to sleep.

I can't tell y'all just how lost for words I was. To be told that I had to put my dog to sleep was tantamount to saying that there was just nothing we could do to help her. It was like my switch had been turn from giving light to receiving pure darkness. I couldn't believe it; almost three whole days of wondering if I would have my dog back in my arms came crashing down. The hours of waiting would never be returned to me and words and actions I should have said and done were long lost. It hit me more than words can say. To say the least, however, I have never known devastation and loss like this and seemed when everything was lost, there was no way of building myself back up. I had picked her out of the liter. I picked her to cherish and to love and after five years of being her owner and best friend, I expected to have her for a very long time. Alas, it was the collective decision of God and our family to have her put to sleep. She couldn't live on in the amount of pain that she was in; I wouldn't have allowed myself to be so selfish to allow it, anyway.

So, we went and said goodbye. I told her I loved her and told her that everything would be alright, that it was okay to let go, as I had told her on three separate occasions before. Then, it didn't seem real. Now, it did.

Unfortunately, I didn't stay to put her to sleep. I went home with my brother and sister. All that time, I cried and kept thinking about her last moments. To this day 5:30-8:00 is still a very hard time frame for me. I don't know the exact time she passed, not that I would want to, time just seems like a break between what I knew and felt and something I could never get back.

It's been a month and a half since I last held her. The days do go by more peacefully, I would say. I still have my moments. Nowadays, I can't be alone with my thoughts. It's just that unbearable.

I do have her daughter and brother to look after, so it's not like am entirely without her presence. Every now and then I'll see her in the corner of my eye and for a fleeting moment it's like she never left and that she's still with us, spiritually at least.

I have to thank each and every one of you for the support you have given my and my work. For being so patient with me and just not hounding me for anything. I didn't write this to get any sort of reaction from y'all. I do hope that you can take from my loss something positive.

It is okay. Everything will fall back into place eventually.

 **A/N 2:** I will go back and edit my chapters as soon as I get some rest. I have been up since 9 a.m yesterday and I am STILL writing.

-Carolare Scarletus


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